Life, Emotions, and Smiles
by Romancelover1321
Summary: A series of drabbles for everyone. The couples I have done so far are Edward and Winry, Scar and Lust and Trisha Elric and Van Hohenheim. If you have a couple you want to request please do.
1. Vanity

Title: Vanity

Characters: Edward and Winry

Genre: Romance/Slice of Reality

Type: AU or AR

Words: 831 (without AN or Intro)

**Vanity: **

**(noun) excessive pride in one's appearance, qualities, abilities, achievements**

There were many other definitions but this was the one he had a particularly obsession over.

Vanity.

If you think about it, the word sounded much like its definition. It rolled off the tongue at first leaving a sickly sweet taste in the cavern of the mouth. Nevertheless, the sweetness turned bitter and heavy and it made him want to scrub his tongue till the taste had become a distant memory.

As a male, he never understood why females felt that they had to be beautiful _every _second of the day. It was unnatural. People, no matter how hard they tried, had a time in their life where they would be considered just plain ugly. In his opinion, he had always found that when someone was at his or her supposed 'ugliest' time, he found the heart grew, along with the soul and it was probably the most beautiful thing he had ever seen a human do.

He would admit that he was good looking. He would tell you that with his strong masculine features, golden blond hair and serious, quiet, amused eyes, that he scored quite high in the appearance test.

He knew that every time he walked down the street for lunch, women, married or not, young or old, turned their heads to watch him turn the corner. However, he never let it affect him. He knew that he had the most wonderful woman in the entire world at _their_ house and that she loved him with her whole heart, and he found it quite pointless to try to earn another worthless woman's attention.

However, he never quite blamed the women. He believed it was society that affected women in the modern day and age to act the way as they did. Society told women to be skinny, unnatural, fashion obsessed blonds for males to find them the least bit _attractive_. Society never really understood the meaning of diversity. Society only understood what was in demanded and at the moment, that was sex, drugs and money.

Yet every time when he came home, he always found real beauty and sweetness in the doorway. He would walk through the door and he would find her tinkering with her newest pet project; her brows furrowed together, her blue eyes burning with determination and otherwise just looking utterly irresistible.

With ease from years of practice, he would lean himself against the open doorway, watching with amazement as she effortlessly cursed when the sharp tool cut her greasy calloused finger. Without any hesitation, she would put her finger in her mouth, making a slight sucking noise as she licked away all the blood droplets from the small wound.

Not a second later, she would look up, the familiar light shining in her sky blue orbs. Then she would come over to him, smudging the oil stain under her eye as she tried to wipe it away, before she would give him a hug and kiss, the smell of oil strong in her hair.

He knew any other woman would have been appalled by the scene but he felt that this was the real her. The greasy, cursing girl that he had come to love in his teenage years had pretty much stayed the same and he loved it.

If he could have had one wish granted, he would have said he wanted things to stay the same. Everything was perfect the way it was and he wouldn't have had it any other way.

After giving him a quick kiss and tender pat on the cheek, she would sway back into the room; his eyes memorized by the swinging of her hips, almost missing it when she informed him that she was going to take a shower and if he would be so kind and clean up her mess for her.

For a second, she would peak her head through the doorway to the kitchen, the brightest smile on her face before she disappeared again, the feelings of gentle warmth buzzing in the air, making everything seem to have a golden haze.

Shaking his head, he would put all the parts back into their right full place, which was anywhere, and he would put it back on the counter in the back corner, where it had rested for 10 years.

Vanity was addicting. There was no doubt about it. It was like a drug. After one taste, a person would come back, hesitating, as if they knew it was wrong, yet it felt so _right. _After that, it would be too late. They would keep running back for more and more until all that was left was the shell of the person they used to know and the wicked person they had become.

Yet no matter how many times vanity had tried, it could never affect his blond hair grease mechanic that he had come to love, and for that, he loved her more.

**Okay I had come up with this drabble after my own poem (it's not as conceited as it sounds) called Emotions. You don't have to read the poem to understand these drabbles but it would be nice to get more reviews. You can never have too many reviews. Anyway I have two more messages. I will update soon, maybe tomorrow or next week so be warned to put this on Story Alert. Second it has been a long time since I have watched FMA, so I may be wrong or have forgotten some things along the way. Thirdly, I only watched the anime so any magna readers I am sorry but don't flame me, politely hit the back button if you don't like. However most of the drabble will be AU, like this one, if you don't like AU, then please don't flame, just hit the back space.**

**Thank you,**

**Romancelover1321**


	2. Lust

Title: Lust

Characters: Scar, Lust and Scar's brother

Genre: Slightly Angst/ Hurt without the Comfort

Type: AU or AR

Words: 2,506 (without AN or Intro)

**Lust:**

**(noun) intense sexual desire or appetite**

**(noun) a passionate or overmastering desire or craving**

This was the only word that explained his feelings with the least bit of accuracy.

It was forbidden for him to love her. She was his brother's fiancée, his future sister-in-law. She was going to marry his brother, love him, provide him dark haired children and grow old with him. There wasn't any room for him and his feelings, not with the way society functioned today.

So why was he still holding onto these feelings of secret affection when he knew very well he shouldn't. All he had to do was move on and find someone else, right? He wasn't sure what to do. Every time he felt that he was going to move on, finally give up on this impossible dream of being with her, she pulled him back in. Whether it was a small smile or an innocent touch on the shoulder, he found himself buried deeper into his adoration and the courage he had worked up to finally give up the losing battle vanished.

As the years progressed, it only got worse. He started to crave her. Crave her like a spicy curry, thick on his tongue yet burning in the back of his throat, always desiring it but never allowed to have it.

Then he started having dreams. At first, it was simple dreams, about what their life would be like, what their kids would look like, how she would look on her wedding day. Then her looks became more passionate, more lust filled and he found himself watching as she showed him parts of her only his brother had seen. Then it turned to hot wild sex and he would wake up to soiled sheets and sweat clinging to the pores in skin.

Next were the prostitutes. He would go to several bars, find any girl that resembled her and pretend it was her while he was having sex with sometimes it was even with some random whore he had picked up.

It was two nights before their wedding when he had his worst dream.

Her deeply tanned skin rubbed seductively against his, while moans vibrated down his throat. Full pink swollen lips nibbled on his, bright amber eyes glowing with lust and love, groaning and screaming his name in pure ecstasy.

It made him tremble as the memory replayed over and over again, the feelings clashing with his usually calm state of mind. Slowly he lost all control as he stared to drown in despair; his surroundings all seemed to be faded.

Resentment formed. Buried deep inside him, hate burned his insides at the sight of the two snuggling together, whispering quietly in each other's ear, and just doing anything that he thought seemed so natural. He had been delusional, he could admit that. He somehow managed to convince himself that it was his brother's fault. _His brother_ was the one who took her away from him. _His brother_ was the one who tricked her and who seduced her into loving him. _His brother _was the one who purposely did it so he wouldn't have a chance with her.

He was always had the better poker face out of the two. He didn't need it when they talked about any other subject; it was natural for him to have an easy smile. His brother _was_ his favorite person. He could talk to him about anything and he would listen, completely none judgmental, as he gauged the best response.

But then he would mention her name, his relaxed smiled turned into a sharp frown before it balanced out into a firm line, giving it just enough of a tilt so it gave the illusion he had on his customary easy smile.

Maybe he did it because of his hate for him. Maybe he did it to get rid of the taunting voice in the back of his head that kept telling him to make his brother pay. On the other hand, it could be because he was so desperately pinning after her. He didn't know what made him snap, what made him want to hurt the both of them as painfully as he could but all he knew that when he did it and he wouldn't be able to take it back.

It was the day before her wedding. Following tradition, she had a bachelorette party while his brother had his bachelor party. The problem was she had very few female friends and knowing his brother wouldn't be very happy if she brought some of her male coworkers, she instead dragged him along. Not that his brother minded or anything. His brother was so certain at the time that she was safer with him than with anyone else.

She generally strayed away from bars, since their culture told them it was born from evil sins of the western society, but tonight she was curious so he had suggested one of his favorite bars, Beautiful Scars.

They sat at the stools, not dancing, her drinking very little of the excellent alcohol they had to offer. The music continued to pound excitedly around them, but to him everything fell on deaf ears because all he could hear was the ticking; it was taunting him, warning him like Cinderella, whose time was coming till the end.

He convinced her to drink a strong beverage, even though she had a look that clearly said she didn't want to swallow one ounce of the amber liquid. It didn't take much effort to keep her chugging them down, all he had to do was lower his voice to its natural deep tone, and add an extra hint of kindness, a skill he had mastered over the years, and he watched as she drank them down with reluctant curiosity.

He stopped her after her first bottle, effortless changing his expression and tone. He suggested to her that he would take her home and it was getting late. He really didn't have to say anything because she was already gingerly trying to climb off the cushioned chair. She stumbled, reaching his hand out, he grabbed her, which caused thousands of electrical shocks to tear through his system. Waiting till she was steady, he took a tender step away from her, anything to put distance between them so he didn't have remember how just a single touch of her hand could arouse him. Her steadiness didn't last long, however, and very little time passed before she was falling over again, the distance between her face and the floor getting smaller and smaller.

His movements were automatic, his reflexes made him react like a spring coming up like a coil buried underneath a worn out mattress. Arms wrapped around her waist and he could feel the satin like smoothness of her skin through the thin layer of her enhancing dress. A fire lit his fingers, which tore through his muscles and into the marrow of his bone. It was agonizing for him to be so close, so close yet so far away that he found himself reluctantly letting her go as he leaned far away , watching from the corner of his eye to make sure she wouldn't fall over again.

"You're really drunk, aren't you?" He asked, trying to hide the dark note of lust that had taken over his mind, his fingers twitching in his pockets as they were forever burning with touch of her skin.

She didn't say a word. All she could do was stared at him with her solemn tired amber eyes and he knew the best thing to do right now was to get her home.

Lightly putting his arm around her small shoulders, he guided her to the car, making sure to pay the grumbling bartender, easily shutting him up by giving him a fairly large tip.

She remained silent as he led her to the passenger seat, opening the door for her as she clumsily got in. Once he knew she safely buckled in, he walked around to the driver's seat, thankful that he was smart enough not to drink anything, for he of course, was the designated driver.

It was a quiet ride, a ride full of a lax silence, which gave him far more time to think then he really wanted. He just wanted… no, _needed_ to feel and for once in his life the thought of analyzing the situation as too tedious of a labor to attempt. She just remained passive as she stared outside through the clouded window, silently gazing at the scenery as it leisurely rolled by in the darkness of the night. He was sure that if he didn't see her amber eyes staring at him through the reflection of the window he would have believed she was asleep.

The beauty about the bar was that it wasn't too far away from their house, so it came no surprise when ten minutes had passed and they were already at the house. Like at the bar, he carefully guided her to the door. Normally she walked with a natural grace but the alcohol had turned it to a wavering unbalanced weak steps and he was practically holding her by the time they got to the door.

She didn't put forth any effort into putting the key in the lock, as if she expected him to be a perfect gentleman and do what she wasn't physically able. She just watched, rather indolently, as he grabbed the keys out of her hand, watching him with intense curiosity as he put the key in the sculptured hole and turned it.

A familiar click rang through the windless night, reminding him of how big and empty the world was, before he pushed the door open to reveal a dark barren house that somehow managed to retain its warm homey feeling.

*He watched her as she strolled into the room, her hips subconsciously swaying as he had entered into the house, gently closing the door behind him. They really needed to oil the hinges.

She didn't bother to turn on the light or maybe she never thought of it, but she just stopped at the entrance, leaned down and began to unzip her ankle boots from her small feet.

He didn't make a sound as he felt his self-control crumble into shambles. He didn't moan or lean toward her and swallow her whole. He waited, waited until she was standing perfectly straight; staring at him with eyes that he thought begged him to love her. Then he just kind of… snapped. Everything flowed out of him, his hate, his desire, his pain, his loneliness, it was a rushing current and before he could stop himself, he had already grabbed her shoulders and pushed her to the nearest wall.

There wasn't any love. There wasn't any desire. There wasn't any acceptance. It was nothing like he had imagined. There was only a drunk glaze as she peered at him innocently from under her long eyelashes. Her eyes scared him. It was more than just him being scared. There was something in her eyes, something that made him feel so guilty. It frightened. So instead, he focused onto her lips, on the soft red hue, on the plump volume and her rich taste.

He didn't wait. He didn't wait or want her approval or her love. He just took her. He took her as if she was his to take, raved and satisfied himself with intense obsession instead of listening to her pitiful cries and weak moans.

It was a shy cry at first, but as his efforts got harder and more pleasurable, she yelled it louder. She yelled her brother's name, not his. He predicted that some night she would say that. She was drunk so it didn't come to any surprise when she couldn't tell that it was her fiancé little brother that was making love to her rather than his brother.

He paused to listen to her sweet whimpering moans. He waited, waited for the burning of agitation, the pain of betrayal, and the ugly head of jealousy butting in where it didn't belong. However, it never came. He felt oddly empty, oddly guilty, so to push the feelings away, he continued to taste, to explore, to hurt, not bothering to correct his mistake.

That night he had explored her, had sinfully loved her in ways that he shouldn't have been allowed. Skin on skin. Soft nibbles. Butterfly kisses. Rough licks. Running, turning, spinning fingers. He did everything that he had imagined in his dreams and maybe even more.

She didn't object. She just took it all in, moaning and whimpering, driving him of the edge that only made him increase his efforts, earning himself more delicious moans and whines.

She would never remember. She would never remember the touches, the few gentle kisses, the waves of passion and pleasure. She would never remember the moans, the quiet pleading whispers, the guilt in his eyes as he heard her call his brother's name over and over and over till he felt sick to his stomach.

She would never remember and he made sure of that.

In the morning sunlight, he saw the full pain of destruction he had left. She laid there, sheets wrapping around her lithe form like a cocoon, bite marks barely visible in her deep tanned skin, dried tear stains drying out on soft skin of her cheeks.

He left, boarded a train to go to college. He knew by now she would have woken up, appalled by the results of their one nightstand, before she took a shower and got dressed, probably hiding the marks with liquid foundation.

Then she would walk down the aisle, a perfect angel, and then they would cut the cake and dance and go on their honeymoon both unaware that she had a darker secret than they could have ever imagine. As the rest of the train ride slipped on, the clock ticking its familiar chime had filled his head and made him do what he forbidden himself from a long time ago. He cried.

He read a book later when got into college, that he found the answer to what his supposed "love" to her was. He had heard his professors raving about this new book, using high appraisals, and he couldn't help but be very interested. So, the next day he went to the library, picked the last copy of the book and proceeded to his room to read it. He cracked open a page, dust billowing out of the book and he fanned it all away before he finally could focus on the elegantly cursive words.

"_Lust gives us exactly what we want. Nothing more, nothing less. And that my friends, is the very reason why on this earth lust is the most rewarding thing anyone will find." _

He had a funny feeling that he was going to like this book, a very funny feeling.

**AN: So are any of you curious on why this took so long? Probably not but I will tell you anyway. Okay this was supposed to be the Alphonse and Winry but thanks to my wonderful friend and beta (who is probably one of the best) suggested I change it to Scar/Lust/Scar brother's triangle. I think it was brilliant. Then we had to reread it and edit a million times and I am pretty happy with the result, which is what your looking out. So please R&R.**

**The next topic is ...**  
**Greed!**


	3. Greed

Title: Greed

Characters: Edward, Alphonse and Homunculus

Genre: Angst/ Hurt without the Comfort

Type: Cannon Universe

Words: 805 (without AN or Intro)

**Greed: **

**(noun) excessively or inordinately desirous of wealth, profit, etc**

He hated that word. He hated it with a burning passion. Greed. It was the fundamental spark in every villain's eye, one of the very few emotions that told the difference between a 'villain' and a 'hero'.

Not that he was calling himself a hero. If good was white and black was bad, he was the grey. He knew better than to fixate his obsession on one thing, ignoring all the consequences and destroying other people's lives just to get the one thing he desired.

In the past, he didn't understand. He was young and just lost the greatest person in his life; his mother. He had gone to all the lengths he and his brother could go through to get her back. It didn't register in his mind that once someone was dead, they were gone forever. He never thought that he was the one who had to care for his brother; that he should just move on. Maybe if he did, they wouldn't be in this predicament.

Nevertheless, the one thing he prided himself on was that he knew when someone was affected by greed. His mother had taught him, a long time ago, that greed was a nasty, consuming emotion.

She didn't have to point out who was considered 'greedy', he could tell by their eyes. There was this dull spark that darkened their eyes to a sickly black, as if the very emotion was polluting their soul.

Originally, he thought that greed was only a 'human' emotion but he had soon learned that homunculi had the very same spark. His first belief of them was they were just dead bodies with familiar faces. However that all changed when he looked them in the eyes. Not just a simple glance but when really studying them.

He never tried to put himself in their shoes. He never made an effort to understand them, didn't even bother to look at them. He just hated them. Now he was about to ready punch himself in the stomach for not listening to his mother's advice.

"Edward, listen and listen well. Everyone feels pain, whether they are an animal or human. You are not better than anyone else and anyone else is not better then you. We're all connected, whether we use thoughts or instincts. Remember that Edward, remember that very well."

It frightened him to see the underling of greed in veiled orbs. It made him wondered what he looked like when he plotted to bring his mother back. Did he have the same maniacal glint? Did he have the same sneer on his face as if he felt like he could control the whole world?

Greed was a storming ocean. It crashed, turned, and shook the world, always raging, always fighting, and always trying to inflict pain for its own sick enjoyment. However, there were a few spots of calm waters, the effective heaven in the middle of hell. And whoever was navigating on that ship would believe that it was safe zone, a place to rest from the constant trembling waves, a place of calm and peace. They would row and row and row but the spot always seemed so far away, so distant, no matter how long they would rowed.

With his golden eyes clouded, he stared at them with pity. They thought that their hard work, the hunting, the killing, the bloodshed, the pain, the threats, the schemes, and all the plots, that it all was going to be worth it. They foolishly believed that the moment his wounded hands collided with the cold cement floor, they would watch their dreams come true; they would finally get the stone that haunted everyone's dreams.

He wished they knew. He wished they knew that greed was an empty promise and that they would only end up watching their spider web of dreams and pain as it all fell apart.

He wished they would figure out that philosopher stone was empty as the greed that burned in their eyes and dead hearts.

With a quick glance, he could tell that his brother understood, He had always understood. Emotions, actions, pain, loneliness, his brother had understood very well what people or homunculi felt. He could see the fear with the trembling of his golden circles of lights that sufficed for eyes, and he knew with the trembling of his lips that he was scared.

"I'm sorry, Alphonse." He whispered. Clapping his hands together, he felt as the electricity flowed between his hands; one made of metal, the other of flesh, as he pounded them on the ground.

And he watched as everyone's dreams crumbled before his very eyes and he did the only thing that seemed natural. He cried.

Greed was a very cruel thing indeed.

**AN: Wow, I can't believe I updated this fast. Usually I take forever. Anyway enjoy and review! I didn't get any reviews. Reviews are proven good for the health, so please try to keep me healthy. **


	4. Love

Title: Love

Characters: Edward, Winry and Alphonse

Genre: Slice of Reality/Angst/Hurt and Comfort

Type: AU or AR

Words: 4,360 (without AN or Intro)

**Love: **

**(noun) a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person**

**(noun) a feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection, as for a parent, child, or friend**

**(noun) sexual passion or desire**

_There is no need for a university study. There is no need for a thousand year old Chinese philosopher. There is no need for a licensed doctor or physiatrist. Everyone, even idiots, considered love to be the most confusing thing in the world. _

_Love is always unpredictable, completely irrational, illogical and the most insane thing in this world that God had created. There is no manual with clear cut rules to explain how you fall in and out of love or how you can choose who you fall in love with. _

_Love is nothing less and nothing more. Love, like life, is what you get. Whatever you do, whatever you say, whatever you feel, whatever you see, whatever you hear, there is no rewind button you can press to go back in time and fix your past mistakes. What you give is what you get. _

_My mother was one of the strongest women that I have ever met. She had two jobs, a waitress by day and a bartender by night. She was, in my opinion, brilliant; but education meant success and there was only so far someone could reach with only a high school diploma. _

_She had genuine feelings to go to college, she really did. All during high school, she saved money from her part time job and babysitting duty with the goal of going to school to become a preschool teacher. However, she had met my father and safe to say it was love at first sight. They were only a couple years apart, she was a sophomore when he was a senior, and they were by far the most beautiful people in the entire school. To no one's surprise it didn't take very long my father to notice my mother and it was even less of a surprise when they started dating. _

_They were by all means the perfect couple. They rarely fought and if they did it wasn't anything that they couldn't solve with an easy compromise. They enjoyed each other's company and didn't feel the large pressure to have sex before they were ready. Their different personalities caused them to bond like best friends and it was no surprise that there wasn't a single secret between the two._

_It wasn't until her senior year that they finally hit a bump in the road. The night of her graduation they went to a friend's party where by accident they each drank a cup of spiked punch. In a blurred moment of misjudgment, they had sex. A month later, a pregnancy test proved she was pregnant with me. _

_Either out of responsibility or love, my father married my mother buying her a diamond ring with his savings that he had been collecting ever since he could remember. With money from his jobs, he bought her a rather cheap but nice house in the middle of the rural valley called Resembool where they raised me without any harsh prejudice or hate from both their families and peers. A year later, my mother became pregnant with my little brother, Alphonse. _

_When Al turned three, a major war broke out between the country we lived in and the country right across the desert. The country's population had been in a serious decline for years. When there weren't enough men enlisting on their own free will, they created the draft, forcing all eligible men from the ages eighteen to forty participate in the war. _

_Our father was one of the first soldiers to be drafted and one of the first not to come home. I began to resent my father for leaving. I was a child, unable to process the seriousness of the situation called war. All I know is he got up and left and his going away forever lead the image of my mother's pained face, when those _military dogs_ came to inform us of our father's passing, forever be burned in my mind. _

_From then on she changed. She always carried out her regular duties, dragged herself to work, cooked two meals every day, and thoroughly cleaned the house daily. Every morning she took us to the school right across from the church and in the afternoon she would come to pick us up. In the evening, she would make dinner and by nine o'clock we were already tucked into bed as she weaved a story about our father. I never wanted to hear those stories, but I forced myself to listen because even the mention of my father brought back the ghost of her old warm smile. _

_One day in the summer she would take us to wherever we wanted, whether it be a park or the zoo and when the anniversary of my father's death came upon us, we always went to his grave, bearing a small bouquet of lavenders from her garden. _

_As she did all these activities, she gradually lost all her vigor and vitality that accompanied them. Sometimes at home, she would stop working in the middle of task, something that was considered taboo before, and would place herself in the chair resting on the porch and quietly would sing our father's favorite song to herself. _

_One day, while she was cooking, she collapsed. While I tried to help my mother up, Al ran next door and managed to get our neighbors to phone the house doctor. _

_What he told us didn't shock us in the least. In his words, our mother was very sick and he didn't expect her to live for more than a few months. From that moment, she was bed ridden. She was forced to quit both her jobs; something that we noticed made her very restless. With sympathy, her former superiors mailed us her last paychecks. _

_Using the money she saved in a safe, we bought the medicine the doctor prescribed. To make it easier, we grew most of our food in our garden and if we had extra we sold to neighbors, using the money to pay for our mother's medicine. Yet there was nothing we could do. No matter how much food we made for her, however long we prayed, how hard we cried, how much medicine we helped her force down, the disease had slowly began to claim more and more of her life. Silently, all we could do is watch her fade away. _

_To us, the image of her dying in bed never gave us nightmares. In the back of our minds we knew we tried and we both acknowledged that it would be better if she just died. She was suffering. Even though she had us, we knew she felt terribly alone without our father and my resentment for him only grew stronger. _

_I believed if he had never had left for the war and never had died, mother wouldn't be sick. She wouldn't be lying here in bed in agonizing pain, unconsciously calling out his name. She would be laughing, talking softly as she made dinner. I would be arguing with her that I didn't want to drink the glass of milk she placed in front of me and Al would be giggling in his chair, glancing at our father's face to see his reaction. _

_The disease, ironically enough, didn't take her life. The church across from our old school was giving away candles to raise money to repair the breaking roof. Two boys, about our age, had tried to be helpful and bought two candles. In the flash of what was a great idea, they lit the candles and walked around the neighborhood, asking people to donate a few cents to the church. _

_When they got to our house, the younger of the two accidentally tripped over the edge of the stairs leading up to the porch. Out of instinct, he dropped the candle and held out his arms to so he didn't take too much damage from the fall. The candle rolled out of his reach, lying face forward on the porch._

_The house by that time was old and in need of major repair but, at the time we were more worried about our mother's condition to raise enough money to fix the house. The candle quickly caught flame to the house, the fire rapidly spread in just a matter of minutes. Our weak mother was unable to muster the strength to escape and all alone she was burned alive. _

_It didn't take me long to realize that we were alone, orphans in a war stricken world. _

_We were able to evade the social workers for a week, and during that week we stayed at a friend's house. In the short amount of freedom, I trained my little brother how to fight. He was a natural, nothing I didn't expect with his calculative mind, and it wasn't long before he was able to bring me down to my knees and have me shouting Uncle. _

_Now you may be asking why I trained him. Well it's a simple answer. I didn't have any clue what was going to happen in the future so if we ever got separated I wanted to make sure my brother could defended himself if I wasn't there._

_The social worker sent us to a nearby orphanage. We spent a week there. We didn't talk to anyone; we just clung to each other, desperately praying every night for our mother to come back alive, sweep us in her warm arms and take us home._

_I can't tell you how many fights we got into and how many punishments we received. I felt like an animal in that orphanage. Starved for food and love, I protected my brother from everyone and everything, viewing the whole world as a possible threat that could tear him away from me any second. _

_During our final days at the orphanage we caught the attention of a famous doctor John Alchemy. After visiting us for three days, he adopted us. _

_He lived alone. From the time we spent with him he wasn't dating anyone and he never introduced us to any other family members, so we assumed he was an only child. All he had was his expensive lonely house and us. From what we could tell he only truly loved one thing and that was science and medicine. He taught us everything he knew, even home schooled us so we were prepared if we wanted to go back to school. When we weren't with the doctor either studying or eating, we were outside training so we didn't lose our hard earned reflexes. _

_He died during the week I turned 18. In his will, he left us everything. He gave us his house, his life insurance money, his cars and even his precious books that he treasured more than the world. With the intent to make Al have an easier life, I enrolled him into the local high school and I got two jobs for extra cash. _

_A year later, I did something that I believed I would never do in my entire life. I enlisted into the army. When I was younger, I vowed to myself I would never become a military dog like my bastard my father did. The war brought nothing but pain and death and the last thing I wanted to do was give Al another hardship to add to his already long list. _

_Yet I was defeated by an annoying man called Roy Mustang. He was a famous recruiter, known for tricking young men into joining with false promises. He told me with one look at my face he knew that I would be a good solider but in the back of my mind I knew it was just another one of his pretty lies. He finally convinced me by promising the full protection of my little brother and they would pay any college tuition he had, the only catch was I had to enlist. Feeling backed into a corner, I filled out the necessary paperwork, signing my life away to the devil's pawns. _

_When I went home, I immediately told my brother. His reaction was one that I had already predicted and even though I prepared myself the sight still scared me. He clenched his teeth together; his fingernails bitterly dug into the palm of his skin, the betrayal in his eyes dulled the warm cinnamon color. _

_My brother was never one to get mad unnecessarily and because of that I had never even seen him get agitated. He was livid and deep inside guilt tugged at my heart. I promised myself I would never hurt him and right at this moment that was the very thing I was doing. _

_He demanded to know why, why would I do something as stupid at that. I could tell at that point he was ready to break, I could see the muscles in his arm itching to punch me in the face._

_Calmly, I told him my reasons. His eyes widened, his pupils slightly contracted, his lips relaxed out of their tight line and his fingers, with a little blood soaked into his trimmed nails, dropped out of their clenched position. There was only one word to describe his reaction- bafflement. _

_Unable to process the response, he hurriedly left the house, slamming the door behind. That night he stayed at a friend's house and for the first time I was alone. The next day when he came home and saw me packing the items in the house that belonged to us, I swore he almost cried. _

"_I understand." When I heard those two words, I felt relief flow into my soul. I knew it would take him some to forgive me, it would be the same for me, but I knew that if he at least understood then it would make things easier. _

"_I know that you wouldn't be exactly happy to have this but I think both of them would want you have this instead of me." He then handed me my grandfather's gold engraved watch, the watch my father clutched as his life slowly poured out of him with his blood. _

_I grabbed the watch, my ignorance had dried up and vanished like my hatred, and suddenly all I could feel was cold pride. _

"_When I return home, you'll be the first one I see." That's what was engraved on it. My grandfather told that to my grandmother, who he had just married before he enlisted. He gave her this watch to remember him when he left and after he died she held onto, and passed it down to my father._

_Looking up to my brother, I spoke the same simple but meaningful words. "When I return home, you'll be the first one I see." He blushed and I knew at that moment that my silly, faithful little brother had been returned to me. _

"_Come on, there waiting for us outside." And with those final words we left the doctor's house. Later in life, I went back to the house. It had gone through five owners and five remodels. They changed the house so drastically that I couldn't even recognize the outside. The changes weren't bad ones though and I could tell by a glance that the house was a lot homier than when my brother and I lived there. _

_Six years, that's how long I served in the army. Not once in that six years did I get a major injury. I easily became famous and respected, mostly noted for taking down several of the most wanted men on the FBI's watch list. Sometimes I dreamed I would leave the army on my own free will when my contract ended. However, life had other plans for me. _

_Friday, October 13th at 21:00, my platoon was sent to patrol an area of the desert that was under suspicions of being occupied by Ishabal terrorist. Once we entered the area we were attacked. Giving the order, we shot back. The gunfight had lasted not even 20 minutes when they started to retreat. I stood up and that's where I made my mistake. One man was still remaining and before I could even duck, two bullets had ripped through my right arm and my left leg. The bullets completely destroyed my nerves, and my limbs were dying and fast. Quickly my fellow brothers in arms drove me to the nearest the hospital tent. They gave me a brief summary of my situation. They told me my limbs were dying and they needed to amputate them soon or I would lose my life. Without any emotion or feeling, I did the only thing I could. I gave them permission to amputate. _

_Al didn't even gasp at the sight of his maimed brother. He didn't cry or shout or hug me, he failed to act the normal expected reactions. Instead he punched me in my lonely arm and smiled. I could see the relief in his eyes. He was glad that I made it out alive of a war that had claimed three members of his small family. He was glad that the brother he looked up to and adored was still here with him, to continue to accompany him through life. He was just glad. _

_I learned later that Al was already graduated head of his class at one the most famous Ivy League schools in the country, Alchemy University, named after the doctor. He was now working at the one of the main institutes for trying to discover the cure of cancer, and he already came up with a partial treatment for breast cancer that was very successful. _

_He had moved out of the neighborhood for family members of men and women in the service, bought his own two bedroom apartment, waiting for the day for his older brother to come home. _

_Winry, if your reading this letter, then you probably can guess what happens next. It was a nice apartment and luckily for me the elevator was near enough so I didn't have to wheel myself across the whole building. _

_A week after I settled, I was going to go to the store while Al was out at work. The door across from us opened up and there you were. I knew it had been years since I saw you, almost two decades, yet I wasn't prepared for you to turn out as beautiful as you were. _

_Your short cropped blond hair grew down to your waist in soft gentle curls; a sleek shine replacing the oily grease that accompanied you when you were in your childhood. Your eyes were wider, brighter with crescent moons in your shining orbs. Your face was covered with light make up, nothing to harsh and your body developed from the flat chest little girl to an appealing womanly shape. _

_You weren't surprised either at my rather helpless state. Instead you wrapped your petite arms around my shoulders, pressing your warm hourglass figure into my chest. At that point you began to sob, crying out. You didn't need words to convey your feelings because I knew them. I knew then that you weren't crying for my pitiful state but because God had granted you the chance to see me again. _

_Awkwardly I wrapped my arm around your waist. It had been years since I had been with a woman and I couldn't help but feel a little antsy. The feeling faded quickly and when I buried my head into your warm shoulder, I knew I had found home. In your ear I whispered to you I'm home and I remember as you cried harder and harder. _

_After your tears ran dry, you detached yourself from me and at that time all I can remember is feeling very cold, as if you sucked all the warmth out of me during our hug. I remember inviting you to go grocery shopping, and even to this day I can recall how dazzling your smile was. _

_Honestly, I could go on and on about you but since I only have limited amount of time I will just tell you what I found the most memorable about you. _

_The first memory was my twenty eighth birthday. Two years had passed since I had been forced to retire out of the war. With the money left from the doctor's will, I applied to go to a medical school. I wanted to become a doctor. Even though it had been years since he had been alive, I remembered everything he had taught us and I felt it was my duty to continue his legacy as his adopted son. _

_Al, you and I were sitting at the dinner table, eating the cake you made when you randomly shouted you had something to tell us. You informed us excitedly how you made a new type of advanced prosthetic limbs and asked if I would I be willing to try. _

_It has been years since then but I could vividly remember my thought process. The war was to me reality and involuntarily I became a realist. You didn't hope or believe. You either followed orders or left. However, there was something about the way your eyes light up and the edges crinkled, I began to think, what did I have to lose? With just one look you managed to manipulate your warmth to convince me to change my rock hard beliefs. Truthfully, at that point I had finally started to accept my handicap and so I just smiled and agreed, hiding my real feelings inside. _

_Through the immense pain, I didn't cry or scream as you connected the fake limbs. I gritted my teeth and thought of that warm dazzlingly smile of yours. I thought about all the years I made you worry and I wanted one moment where it was unnecessary. _

_The surgery, just like you had predicted, was a success. Even though I was staring at the very limbs that gave me back my old life, my mind refused to believe it. I knew in the past that you preferred to play with machine parts then dolls but I don't think I could have predicted you could build something as complex as an arm. _

_I remembered your tears of joy when one of the heads of the most famous prosthetic shop called you and offered you a job, asking you to show them the new prosthetic. Even several doctors called you to ask you to demonstrate the surgery. _

_For a year of my life I was treated as a test subject. As a man with a fragile ego, I hated every moment. But every time you turned your dazzling smile to me, somehow I found a new reserve of energy to suck it up and wait it out. I didn't want to hurt your feelings. You were living in your dreams. They already were printing books about your life and your incredible new invention. Even years later with new technology and models, you're still the goddess of prosthetics. You're the revolution of machines and because of your invention you saved lives. I didn't want to disappoint you because of my selfish feelings. _

_After the whole catastrophe with the invention, I asked you to be my girlfriend, like a fumbling high school student. You just laughed and said you've been waiting for forever for me to finally ask. You told me you had a crush on me ever since we were kids and when I had left you took it really hard. Your bright eyes faded for a moment and you refused to meet my gaze. Finally you glanced up at me and I already knew what you say next._

"_Ed, I love you. So please don't leave, not like that again." Tears leaked from your eyes and I pulled you close, in two arms. I vowed from that point to never hurt you again. _

_Two years later, I proposed to you. It wasn't anything special or distinguishing about it, it was your normal proposal with your normal wedding ring. Though I could tell by your eyes that day meant the very world to you. _

_Yesterday, you informed me about our child. How many years have we been waiting for this day? One year? Two years? Maybe even three? _

_Winry, you don't know how much I wish I was with you, holding you rather than in this hospital bed telling some man what I want to tell you myself. _

_I'm sorry. I was supposed to be there. I promised you that I wouldn't leave. I promised I would never hurt you like I did years before. _

_I know I have no right but can you please listen to my selfish wishes just for a minute. I wish for this child, whatever gender they may be, to grow healthy and strong. I wish for them to follow their dreams, for whatever they maybe. I wish for you to be happy, whether that is alone with my memory and our child or with someone else by your side. I wish for you to forgive me, even though I never once deserved your forgiveness. _

_And for my last wish, I selfishly wish that you will never forget me. I don't care if the rest of the world doesn't know me but even for a minute, don't forget me. _

_Yours truly,_

_Edward Elric _

Alphonse Elric and Winry Elric watched as Edward Elric was buried six feet under the ground. His coffin was covered by their countries flag, to represent his time in the military. They buried him in his uniform, the one that almost took so many of his families lives away. Clutched in his hand was a gold carved watch, with the words when I return home, you'll be the first one I see.

From a distant, two little boys silently thanked their savior and clutching hands, they walked away, thankful for the new life a brave doctor had given them.

**Alright, I swear I am alive. I'm not dead. Long story short, I have been very busy and been having some family and computer problems so you have to forgive me for the long wait. I am half way done with the next drabble, which by the way if your curious is pain. I have a challenge for my readers. I want you to guess how Edward dies. I will give you two hints. One it has something to do with the two little boys at the funeral. Second it mirrors how one of his relatives mentioned in the letter died. The person who guesses close to how Edward dies will get a preview of the next drabble and may ask one question about it. I know it's not the greatest prize but there is so much I can offer you. See you guys soon. **


	5. Pain

Title: Pain

Characters: Trisha Elric

Genre: Angst/Hurt without Comfort

Type: Cannon Universe

Words: 1,091 (without AN or Intro)

**Pain: **

**(noun) ****physical suffering or distress, as due to injury, illness, etc**

**(noun) ****mental or emotional suffering or torment**

**(noun) an annoying or troublesome person or thing**

She liked to say that she was happy. She liked to say that she was content with her life and that she had no regrets. She liked to say it was easy to laugh, smiling was effortless, and she looked forward to the possibilities of each new day when the sun rose from its resting position.

When that sun rose in the sky, she couldn't see the brightness of the cheerful rays that promised a new day with joyous outcomes. She couldn't see the illuminating golden light that brought such simple happiness to most of the habitants in her small town. When she stared at the shining sun, she saw a large dead ball of fire and the longer it stayed in the glaring blueness that they called the sky, the more her burdens increased. Her shoulders already felt heavy and the longer she continued to live the heavier the burdens became.

By society's standards, she didn't have a reason, a purpose to live. She was a lonely single mother, jobless with no money. Her husband had abandoned her years ago only leaving her two sons and a house in need of repair. She had very little education and not enough time. The way she viewed it, she had absolutely no future, no way to move forward from her low futureless position.

Yet what was her reason to continue living. At first, she would have said it for her two little boys. Edward was the carbon copy of his father. He had the same long golden blond hair and eyes that are shade brighter which expressed his every emotion he felt. He had the same lean muscular build with the short height accompanied by the same athletic instincts that lead him to excel in any sport he tried. He was naturally talented, understanding everything the second he saw it, a genius in anyone else's eyes. He had even inherited her husband's stubbornness, especially with the way he argued with her every night to drink his glass of milk. .

In those eyes, he held the burning determination that she had only seen in his father, her beloved husband. She knew if something happened to her, she could rely on him to take care of Alphonse; to even go to the extent of protecting him with his life just as his father had once proclaimed to her. He seemed liked the kind of person who would fight to survive, to the very last second, never regretting any of his past decisions.

She knew as a mother she shouldn't have thought this way but she hated her first child. He reminded her everyday of a past now distantly out of reach. Every time she glanced at his small frame, she had to swallow the memories and force a smile on her face. As a mother and a human being she despised herself for these feelings, yet after several attempts to discourage the feelings, she found it was a futile effort.

Alphonse, her second child, she would admit guiltily was her favorite. He looked most like her, an oval shaped jaw with a mop of messy light brown hair and average brown eyes. He was very mellow, studying his surroundings with calculative eyes. Unlike her first son, he needed steps to understand the world around him, processing large pieces of information in order to come up with the best possible outcome. Sometimes she regretted not teaching him chess when she had the energy.

She stood over their bed, staring at them with such sad eyes as the sun crawled down the spine of the sky. She wished she could be the mother they needed. She wished she could be a mother who loved them unconditionally, who was never afraid to wrap them in a hug and just enjoy them for what they were, her beautiful precious children.

She wished she was stronger so if they were ever in trouble they could depend on her when they were lost. She wished she was a mother who could hold no prejudiced toward them and would only look at them with accepting warm eyes. She wished she could be the mother who lead them toward the right path, letting them decided their own strong beliefs so when she had to let them go, she knew they would be safe no matter what trouble they got into.

That was not the case however. She had managed to trick them with an illusion and they readily accepted it without any resistance or defiance.

Edward shifted in his sleep, stretching his arm so he could grab his little brother's hand. Alphonse accepted the hand, placing it on his heart, its strong beat singing into the silence of the cold winter night.

Her existence was pain itself. She was the very form of agonizing pain caused by love. She quietly sat in a home, in the middle of an unknown little town, waiting for a husband to come running back to her door. Everyone knew he wasn't coming back; even her son, Edward, was convinced that he was gone for good.

Her head had already accepted that fact but her heart still continued to refuse to accept reality. No one saw his pained look when he walked away from her, the crestfallen gaze that ripped her apart. No one saw him pause as he walked away, as if pondering if he was making the right decision or not. No one saw him turn around, two tears slivering down his face, before he finalized his decision and walked away.

It didn't matter if she was in pain, it didn't matter if she was lonely. It didn't matter how much she screamed or yelled or cried. It didn't matter how many times the sun discouraged her or how guilty she felt for not being able to love her sons to her full capability. She knew, deep inside her soul, he would come back and she would wait till the end of the world for him, for the day when she would once again hold him in her arms.

Brushing a strand of golden hair away from Edward's closed eyes, she silently cried. In the silence of her bedroom, watching her boys, as they rested in ignorant sleep; she begged for their forgiveness. She had chosen her path and quietly she would watch as they choose theirs.

**I feel as a character Trisha Elric is one of the most unappreciated important character in the anime/manga. From what I've seen, we either get Edward and Alphonse's point of view (mostly Edward's) and the one time we got to see Van's Hohenheim's life where we briefly see Trisha. So I thought it was about time someone did her point of view on things. You can either agree or disagree, as long as your maybe thinking about it I'm happy. You still have that challenge from the last drabble, so I want to see some answers. By the way if your wondering why these are all dark all of sudden, I'm sorry. After the next drabble (tears by the way) I will write a fluffy warm one. **


	6. Tears

Title: Tears

Characters: Edward, Alphonse, Winry, Scar and Homunculi

Genre: Angst/Hurt Without Comfort

Type: Cannon Universe

Words: 2,675 (without AN or Intro)

**Tears:**

**(noun) a fluid appearing in or flowing from the eye as the result of emotion, esp. grief**

_**Tears are regret. (Edward and Alphonse)**_

We were children then. Clueless about life and all its proven facts, our naivety had become our enemy. We knew only very few things about the world that surrounded us. We never had ventured past the borders of our small town, our mother had become our God and Alchemy was the method we worshiped her. Our neighbors were nothing more than strangers living next to us, school was a place to learn useless material and church topped our list as the biggest waste of time.

When we were with our mother, our worries disappeared and became nonexistent while our spirits were filled with joy. Her smiles were gold; her laugh was the most beautiful music, her beauty was incomparable, and she had the purest soul on the earth.

One day, when we were at school, our mother fainted on the porch. We never thought that our invincible mother, our God, could have contracted a disease. However, when she only got weaker and weaker, all we could is watch as her life faded, along with the past that we knew.

Foolishly, we were unable to accept that she was dead. We disobeyed life's most sacred fact; the dead can't return to the world of the living. For months, we locked ourselves in that house, researching relentlessly for an answer; a cure to this harsh truth. If anyone knew what we were doing they would have expected us to fail and tried to convince us to stop. Yet we continued to push, push for what we latter found out was an impossible dream.

The ceremony itself wasn't all that exciting, the results it brought us were the very definition of terrifying. In place of what was supposed to be our mother's body was a deformed creature made of stretched flesh, blood, and cold cruel eyes that our mother could never have possessed.

Years had passed since then. We learned our lesson; we knew that being naïve would get us killed in the end. We burned our old house with all its memories and left the little town that held no sentimental value to us.

The rusted wheels rattled against the train tracks, children laughed as they ran around joyfully, mothers scolded them for getting out of their sight. We stayed silent, staring outside the window, our regret plaguing our minds as the scenery changes in a fast blur.

Together, we ponder about that deformed creature and where it was now. We think of the sacrifices it had caused us, physically and mentally. Without the world knowing, we watch the life we had known slip through our fingers like sand, the memories of smiles become nonexistent, the laughter nothing more than a sorrowful song, joy a long forgotten emotion. Together, in this rattling train, we watch the image of our mother blur and slip away from our memories, and inside our hearts, we silently cry.

_**Tears are love. (Winry)**_

I promised myself that I would never cry in front of them. I wanted to appear strong; I wanted them to think that women were strong creatures and not weak like they may have believed.

I wanted to know their thoughts. I wanted to know what they were thinking, what their goals were, what they wanted from this life, what they valued, and most importantly what they thought about me. Did they find me annoying with my constant offers of help or were they grateful? Did they want to visit me only because of their injuries or did some part of them actually like seeing a familiar face?

I wished, maybe once, they would come on their own free will and not for injuries, just because a small part of them wished to see me. I knew I was being selfish. I knew that what I wished for could never be but I couldn't stop the part of me that deeply desired it.

Every time they wondered to my house, dismembered and crestfallen, I hid my broken heart. I would smile, scold them for getting in trouble and making me worry constantly before I would guide them into the house they knew as well as their childhood home.

They came wondering home, just like they did a million times before, however, this time they weren't discouraged or crestfallen. Their bodies were torn apart, gashed and scratched, both of them missing one of their artificial limbs. I could see through their eyes, that whoever had done this had crushed them from the inside. It was as if they had reached a hand into their bodies, torn their heart out and crushed their hopes and dream.

Their eyes, even when they were beaten down and broken, always held a desperate determination to find this mystical stone that could grant whatever they wished. Now that their determination, a delicate flame, was harshly put out by a waterfall, it seemed as if it was their very souls were broken and not their bodies.

Like all other times, I helped them into the tiny house with a bright smile. This time, I didn't have the heart to scold them this time. They had already been stomped on and violated earlier, I didn't want to see their self-esteem fall any lower.

Once I had them settled into their usual room, my grandmother dragged Alphonse to our storage so she could see how much metal she would needed to make his arms and legs.

Alone with Edward, I stood in the middle of the room, watching as he slumped against the wall, agonizing over the thoughts in his head.

Unable to bear his pained expression, I walked toward him, kneeling quietly in front of him. He showed no signs of acknowledging me for invading his personal space and he didn't put any effort to verbally object. With gentle hands, I lifted his face so he was staring directly at me.

His jaw tensed under my touch but he didn't reject it. My eyes roamed over his features, drinking them in like a woman who hadn't seen her lover in years. His jaw line had gotten sharper and square with muscle; his golden hair lay loosely at shoulder length, which had been ripped violently out of its normal braid. His eyes, veiled by his long sooty eyelashes, were dead, lifeless and confused; much like the day when he had to watch his mother's casket as it was lowered into the ground.

Mother like, I kissed his forehead, wrapping my arms around his small but strong frame, as if the world was going to tear him away from me. Moisture began to build behind my eyes, I sobbed loudly as they fell from the corners.

I wanted to tell him that he wasn't alone in this world. I wanted to tell that he had people that loved him and he didn't need a silly legendary stone to get what he desired. I wanted him to quit his job before he got hurt worse or die. Yet as soon as I tried to speak, the words caught in my throat and more tears fell from my eyes. So I kept quiet, silently begging him not to leave me again inside my breaking heart.

3 days later, they disappeared from our sight like a bad storm, not even bothering to say a word goodbye. 7 months later, a couple State Alchemists came to our house, carrying the full body of Alphonse clutching Edward's bright red jacket.

I didn't hear as they told me Edward disappeared and they had found Alphonse body outside the ruins of a large mansion. I didn't hear them as they apologized. I didn't notice as they passed me to enter the house and set Alphonse's body in the nearest bed, saluting me as they left. I didn't even hear as they got in the car and drove away,

I stood in the doorway, crying pained sobs because my crush, my first love, had disappeared in whirlwind of mystery and left his most precious possession behind.

_**Tears are weakness. (Scar)**_

Most of the fundamentals beliefs that formed my values today I learned from my childhood. Alchemy is the devil's magic. It is unnatural force and can only cause disaster and destruction. Emotions are useless. They easily clouded one's judgment and only lead people down a path of pain and suffering. I had to be the strongest of the strongest, so in the future I could protect the one's I loved.

My brother was the lucky one. He was what you would call the "rebel" of the family. He had broken our main belief and had taken an interest in the forbidden "black magic", known to the rest of the world as alchemy. My father had taken the most natural action he could have done, he disowned my brother. My mother simply pushed him out of her memory and if someone had asked her about her other son she would inform them she only had one son.

While I didn't quite understand my brother's reasoning, I deeply respected him. He was the only one who talked to me like we were equal, rather than a child who didn't know anything and they could easily bend to their will. So the day he had left, I had convinced him to take me. Together with two packed bags, we left and never came back.

We got our bought house and for a while lived undisturbed. Then he had met _her. _She was one of the local woman, notably the most beautiful and daughter to a rather proud, but morally sound man. She had instantly taken a liking to my brother and him to her; and without anyone's approval they began date.

When I first met her, I developed an immediate hatred toward her. I could see she was occupying all my brother's attention and I couldn't bear the thought of him focusing on anyone else but me.

For weeks, I avoided her every time she came by our house and never gave her answers longer than one or two words when she attempted to have a conversation with me. She never once complained to my brother about my behavior and continued to act friendly to me when others would have just caved in.

One night, she stayed over for dinner and I began to notice the little details. They way her mouth tilted up in a smile whenever my brother told her about his latest discovery; her bell like laugh when my brother apologized for being gone all the time and not being able to spend more time with her. I began to note the way she touched my brother. Her fingertips gently brushed the back of his hand before her slender fingers mesmerizingly grabbed his hand and wrapped it into her dainty one, holding it closely to her pale pink lips.

The more I began to notice, the more I began to fall in love with her. It had taken me two years of denial but when I finally had admitted it to myself, it was already too late. During those two years, they had gotten more intimate and their lives slowly began to fold into each other until they couldn't find the line that separated them.

The day they told me they got engaged, I hid any displeasure toward the idea. Instead, I congratulated the both of them, gave them some lame excuse and walked away so they didn't see the scowl that had formed on my face.

A year later, she caught a deadly disease that was quickly spreading into epidemic, leaving most of the people in my village in ruins. Like many others, the disease had claimed her life. The day they declared she had died, I watched as my brother fell to her bedside on his knees, tears flowing freely as he hugged the vessel that used to hold her soul.

He began to divulge himself more and more into work, locking himself in his room as he diligently worked on something that I could only guess.

Seven months later, we were invaded by the State Alchemist army. At the time, I was coming home from visiting her grave. They were easy to notice, the sound of their heavy footfalls and machinery against the hot sand, their loud voices in sync as they yelled across the barren desert. Quickly hurrying to our house, thoughts of my brother were the only thing I had on my mind. It was easy to reach our house in time, yet I didn't realize that I was too late.

I had expected my brother to automatically understand what was happening and to have been ready when I got there. Instead, he was naked like newborn baby; ugly thick black lines swirled in incisive patterns that marred his tanned skin, his ruby red eyes veiled over with vague unawareness. He was mumbling to himself, his voice carried by the wind. His tone was whispering low, contrasting the loud noises that surrounded us. Unaware of his surroundings, he kept on mumbling, kept on talking about some useless nonsense I couldn't comprehend.

Not wanting to waste another second, I grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into the next house. Stealthily, I searched the house for some clothes for my brother. I struggled to put them on him as he fought me, but I managed. Without skipping a beat, we left the house.

Gathering with the surviving group of people, we had escaped from the alchemists into the desert, our native land that had protected us for many decades.

It wasn't enough though. An Alchemist had managed to find us quickly. In order to protect what I had thought to be the last surviving Ishbalans, I engaged him in battle.

It wasn't difficult to see that he was far better than I was. I barely scratched him, while he exploded an ugly gash on my forehead and torn my right arm off my shoulder. In my brother's last attempts to save me; he used to last of his energy to give his right arm to me, joining it by alchemy.

The alchemist had left, assuming we were all dead. There, in that hot, lonely desert, I broke my promise and let the only water left in my body leak through my eyes.

All alone, I cried for the ones who had left me. I cried for the ones who had been killed so coldly. I cried for those who were hurt and suffering as death waited patiently to claim their lives. I cried for the two people who managed to smile genuinely at me even in the worst of times and wondered why they deserved such a cruel fate.

_**Tears are dreams. (Homunculi)**_

We are monsters. We don't need to be told that, we can see it in your expressions, in the deepest depths of your eyes.

We cannot feel. It is impossible to know what joy or happiness or sadness is; or to even relate to you by a natural death. It is impossible for us to genuinely laugh or smile or smirk; even though it appears that way.

All we have is our hazy past memories and the sick dream of a stone that we will do whatever it takes to get our hands on. We don't care who gets hurt in the process, even fuzzy faces of our past will not hinder us. We will not listen to the people who created us because they couldn't bear to let go of the past.

We know better than to try to blend in as if we are normal humans. We won't beg for your forgiveness and we won't accept your sympathy. We will never see your love and only perceive your hate.

However, we will ask you one favor before we leave you. When you watch us walk away, please cry, because we are unable to.

**As you can see this is a different style from most of the drabbles I have given you so far. I am actually quite happy with this drabble and really like this style of writing. Well that's all I have to say is review!**


	7. Dreams

Title: Dreams

Characters: Edward, Alphonse, Van Hohenheim

Genre: Brother love/ Friendship/

Type: AU or AR

Words: 1,203 (Without AN and Introduction)

**Dreams****:**

**(noun) a succession of images, thoughts, or emotions passing through the mind during sleep**

**(noun) an aspiration; goal; aim **

**(noun) something of an unreal beauty, charm, or excellence**

He didn't believe in the word simple. People had a knack for throwing simple solvable problems together with other simple solvable problems (like one plus one ) and creating one unsolvable complex problem (equaling two) that tested their morals, faith, love or one of the many other insecurities that had plagued humanity for centuries.

A person's life is like an onion, built on layers upon layers of events, coincidences and complicated situations. Each layer was different from the last, revealing personalities, fears, hopes, expectations, loved ones, people they despised and so on and so forth. There was always one consistent layer, however, that never changed even though on the surface it seemed vastly different. Dreams.

Dreams are a person's aspirations, a goal that gives them courage to keep on running to their metaphorical finish line of their metaphorical race. It gave them a feeling of accomplishment as if they had done something with importance; because it was a common fact the humans had an incredibly short life.

He found that all dreams tended to be similar; despite if the desired was to be the president or a famous rock star. Both occupations, while being drastically different, required the same amount of will power and sacrifices and a large amount of money.

Every person's dreams hold some sort of opaque or golden veil, creating a gentle shimmer in their eyes as they spoke of them, passion bringing life to their trodden and worn down voices. It left a sweet taste on their tongue as they replayed what they thought would be their greatest moment, their hands reaching out in the adrenaline of greed and excitement as they caressed the wind for an invisible image.

If someone who regarded themselves as normal saw this sight, they would come to the conclusion that the person was rather eccentric and if not a little off his rocker. However, he knew better and knew it was just one of human's weird quirks built into the complicated design.

Based on society's standards and his age and talent, many of his acquaintances that he knew through his travels had found his dream to be rather unexpected. For those who knew him very well and whom he had considered trustworthy, his dream was nowhere out of place and sometimes they had the thought that it maybe wasn't ambitious enough.

His father was the most well known criminal of the current century, bringing chaos, fear, pain and death to every city that he visited. Whether he did it out of genuine malicious intent or pure coincidence fueled by terrible luck, he would never know. Nor did he care, for the record, because his love for his father had disappeared years ago, to be precise it was the day that his father had left his mother and broke her heart.

Despite the many incidents of court issued restraints, terrible names, statements from his younger brother to court saying he had no desire to have any relation to his father whatsoever, (he didn't need to make a statement because he was rather famous for his feelings toward the man) his father still continued to pursue the delusion of them being a family.

He had figured it was his dream, his vision in the golden veil that continued to shimmer even though reality had suggested that he had already crushed his chances. His father had showed no signs of backing down, and he refused to be caught in the man's delusion, eluding the man by changing his name and address constantly, never staying in one place for more than a year, avoiding particularly public jobs, and even dying his hair on several occasions.

Whenever he was given a rare peaceful moment, his brother could find him spread out in his favorite chair placed by the window. His brother would sit with him, watching him as his pensive face changed with his thoughts, the mix of soft and loud music playing hypnotizing in the background.

Most of the time he thought about if his father hadn't left his mother, if he hadn't fallen to the temptation of drugs and had murdered someone, if his mother hadn't killed herself and left them alone, where would they be?

He had this odd inclination now that he would be moving out of the house, his mother filled with joy and sadness as she watched her precious oldest child leave this house. He would be going to college, trying everything he could get from beer to sleeping with all types of women, making mistakes left and right. Then he would find a woman that he thought was maybe the one. He would ask her out, have a particularly long relationship with her, and dump her because they realized they didn't fit quite as perfectly as he thought.

He would probably go through several more girlfriends, before he had found "her". They would get married; his father and mother beaming at him with pride and his little brother teasing him relentlessly. They would go through the whole struggle of buying a home, she would pop out a few kids and he would be spending the rest of his days, raising his beautiful children and wondering why the hell he wanted them again.

It was rather a stereotypical life, one many people lived in but secretly preferred something a little more exciting. However, for him, even though it was rather simple and predictable, it was farther out of his reach than anything else in the world.

His dream, in all reality, couldn't have been more different. He struggled as he tried his best efforts to protect his brother from his delusional father and the vicious cycle that had already swallowed his life.

Instead of feeling as if life was short and worth every moment, life felt like a prolonged pain and he had guiltily thought that if he had died that maybe it would have been better. He wanted, so desperately wanted, his little brother to have the life he should have had.

His life had meant nothing to him, he had no concern if he had died or lived, as long as he saved his brother, then maybe it would be all worth it. '

Despite that his dream had changed drastically, when he had closed his eyes, it still had its inviting shimmer of gold as his brother grinned happily at a rather beautiful woman who held a small child held gently in her arms. His brother was leaning down toward the tiny face, his nose only a few inches away as he cooed to the baby, little fingers happily searching for the much larger finger in front of his face.

A grin broke over his face and he felt his little brother tilt his head, for he was sitting at the side of the long chair, confusion plaguing his thoughts. He ruffled his little brother's hair, by the frown on his face he really didn't like. He was happy and knew deep down everything would work out in the end.

**For additional information you might be wondering in the back of your mind, Edward is around his early twenties and Alphonse is around his late teens, specifically the ages of 16 or 17. I apologize for the long wait, though you probably deserve way better, and please continue to read my drabbles as I promise their is more to come. Have a good weekend and please review. **


	8. Trust

Title: Trust

Characters: Alphonse

Genre: Slice of Reality

Type: Cannon

Words: 1,485 (Without AN and Introduction)

**Trust: **

**(noun) reliance on the integrity, strength, ability, surety, etc., of a person or thing; confidence**

The ceiling still remained faceless as time slowly started to tick past him, thoughts keeping him from the peaceful abyss of sleep. He was waiting, waiting for something abnormal, waiting for something grotesque, waiting for the expected hallucination of one of the faces of his nightmares to shift and twist and swirl the faceless piece of wall above him into its shape while it taunted him by voicing his deepest fears and most selfish wishes.

A few seconds later the ceiling started to morph, as if fueled by his thoughts, and he forced his gaze to look somewhere else. He knew this wouldn't stop the taunting whispers as they were now beginning to invade the edges of his mind, however he didn't find it as disturbing as watching the moving face.

Ignoring its hateful cold gaze, he listened as the bed creaked as he turned his head, his vision in line with the sleeping form of his brother. White walls glowed as moonlight was reflected from the clear glass of the windowpanes, bending at the right angle, bathing his brother in its gentle rays. The hardwood floors were drenched by black shadows as they crawled to the edge of his brother's bed, as if creating a cradle of despair. The hand built stool stood alone in the sea of darkness, void of its usual bright presence.

A couple times, he had caught Winry sneaking into their room, usually similar to nights like this when sleep refused to come to him. He never said a word to her, keeping his mouth closed. Instead he would just stay still and watch her.

First, she would first peak her head into the room to see if the inhabitants of the room were asleep. If they weren't, she would silently leave as easily as she came. By fate of chance, if she thought they were, she would enter the room. As silently as she could, she would move across the floor as shadows draped her feet like silk. Quietly, she would sit down on the stool that she had placed before his brother's bed.

As if on cue, the moon would lift its curious head and like his brother she would be bathed in its bright rays, her blonde hair aglow. She never failed to remind him of an angel and sometimes he felt that if he watched long enough wings would sprout from her back and she would fly to a land that no human could reach. Of course, they never appeared much to the delight of his logical side.

He knew the next movements by heart. She was going to slowly extend her pale arms and her fingers would clutch his brother's hand a flesh. She would then pull it forward so his fingertips rested on her beating heart, the muscles in her arm moving in a fluid motion as she pulled her elbows in. This never failed to bring tears to his eye. She would stay the whole night and refuse to leave until the moon was back in its resting place and dawn was spreading rays of bright crimson over the world, the only proof that she was once there was by the sunken cushion of the stool.

He had known for years that Winry was enamored with his brother. Even though she had done an excellent job of concealing it, he still could see the little signs. The way her tone would soften and flow like honey, how her lips would twitch into a small smile. Whenever he walked into a room, her eyes immediately fell upon him and he became the center of her attention. He would watch the way her eyes followed his every movement, especially the way his muscles stretched and flexed under the thick fabric of his pants, the way his left leg would sink just a little closer to the ground, the way his hair swayed gently on his shoulder like a ticking clock.

There was no doubt in his mind that Winry would still love his brother, if he was the one whose soul was trapped in a suit of armor. It was obvious that Winry had loved Ed since they were children and that her love had been growing ever since. So, out of pure spite or mental suffering, he wished his brother was the one with the soul trapped in a full body of armor. He wished he could feel the pain he was going through, to be living but not living, to exist but not exist, to only sense but not feel.

He held the selfish belief that if he had a body composed of flesh and metal that he could also attract a pretty girl who could fall in love with him and would find the mix of artificial limbs and flesh attractive. However, his guilt, which refused to stay quiet, told him that the chances were unlikely. Women always went after his brother's type. They weren't attracted to intelligence or polite manners or cooking because they wanted a wild unruly man with the sauntering strut and a crooked grin that could make their hearts swoon.

Behind the layers of selfish wishes and loneliness, the true reason he wanted a body of flesh was to have the sense of touch, taste and smell. Of course when one was a body of armor they didn't need all those extra senses for they were only needed for people with the necessary parts.

On their travels, sometimes as a thank you for their hospitality, he would cook for the people that allowed them to stay at their home. Once when Ed was exploring the house with their host, he was in the kitchen cooking dinner. It was a crazy thought, one that had come and gone, one that he had wondered about during late nights when sleep had evaded him once again.

Under blind impulse, he stuck his entire hand into the burning flame that came from the stove. The flames, not hot enough to melt the metal of his fingers, surround them, flickering in colors of blue, red and orange as they tried with all their might to destroy the item that would dare enter their sanctuary. Being the sensible person he was, he removed them before his hand became unable to cook with.

Just to be certain, he would put his fingers under cold water, the coldest the sink would allow him, and he would watch and listen as to the metal would steam and hiss in his face. Sadly, he couldn't feel the heat of the flame or the icy cold of the water as they both tried to attack and destroy his artificial hand.

Once again the crazy dark whispering thought in his head was proven wrong. His arm hadn't mysteriously developed extra senses and he still felt as empty and hollow as he started out. Even he couldn't understand such a logic loving person as himself would even dare acknowledge the thought, let alone believe it. However, he believed in alchemy and alchemy always loved to spring surprises on its users.

In the dark corners of his mind he knew that the experiment was much more than an unfruitful hope. He wanted to go back into the past. He wanted to be younger, with a body of flesh, bones and blood instead of a soul in an empty shell of armor. He wanted to feel human. He wanted to see the world as if he was younger, joy brimming at the sight of places unexplored and mystical.

He knew that only one person that could grant him his wish and that was his brother. His other family members on their mother's side were all dead, their father had been gone for so long that he was sure he was dead too, and they had no idea who was on their father's side. But he knew that his brother, even though he could be highly selfish at times, loved him with every fiber of his body and was fighting so hard to get them back the body they knew they deserved.

So he had decided to invest his time and his heart into his brother's life mission, into his permanent goal. He was going to rid himself of any logic that told him the chance that they would get their respected body or body parts back was impossible and despite everything and everyone who had gone out of their way to prove them wrong. So he was going to do the one thing he knew that would never be able to do with anyone else, he was going to put all his trust into his brother, because he knew if there was any road that he could take, the one with his brother was always the best.

**Author's notes: I can only imagine the list of people who are really mad at me right now. So anyway, I at first didn't like this drabble and now that I have reread it after taking a break I am quite proud of it. So my question to you is what is your opinion? **


	9. Pride

Title: Pride

Characters: Roy and Riza

Genre: Romance/Angst/Hurt and Comfort

Type: Possible Cannon Universe (takes place a couple hours after Maes funeral)

Words: 2,634 (without AN or Intro)

**Pride:**

**(noun) a becoming or dignified sense of what is due to oneself or one's position or character; self-respect; self-esteem. **

**(noun) pleasure or satisfaction taken in something done by or belonging to oneself or believed to reflect credit upon oneself**

The graveyard was empty. As he let his eyes roam the miles and miles of rolling green hills, blades of grass waved and danced in the light breeze as the sun gradually descended down into its final resting place for the day. Silently, he studied every engraved detail on the concrete tombstone before him. The funeral had ended hours ago, forever burned in the participants' memories of a little girl crying as they buried her father, pleading with her sobbing mother to make the hired diggers to stop. The family had left not long ago only because by that time Mae's daughter had been finally drained of all her energy, fast asleep in her mother's arm as she carried her down the hill, into their car and he watched as the headlights drove farther and farther away until they were completely obscured by the misty fog.

Once he was certain that he didn't have any other intruders, he lowered himself onto the freshly dug grave, embedding his fingers deep into the dirt, part of him hoping that he would be able to feel the coffin that held the lifeless body of his best friend. Gradually, he lowered his back so it was brushing against the tombstone, extending his neck in backwards angle, exposing the pale face of his neck.

For a while he sat like that, contemplating the world, alchemy, especially the man beneath him. He shouldn't have died. He wasn't even supposed to be on that mission, it wasn't his job, and it wasn't his duty. He should have let his mind wander to his warm home with his beautiful wife and adorable daughter. He should have thought about how they were eating dinner, his wife chatting with their young daughter as she babbled on about her day at school, complaining about how boys had cooties and how could she could sing the letters of the alphabet. And as each memory passed under his eyelids, temptation would grow, pressing and rising like a wave of heat until it became so unbearable that he would just have to turn around and leave, the next day forced to face the wrath of his boss. It would have at least assured him that maybe Maes would be alive and thriving with his small family instead laying in a mahogany box six feet under.

Part of him desperately wanted to lay blame on Maes for his death. That somehow he could spin the tale that it was Maes who had gotten himself killed, that he went to investigate a matter that had no relation to him based on his own curiosity rather than being a direct order from his higher up, who by coincidence was him.

However, he knew that the only person he was deluding was himself. It was entirely his fault that Maes was killed. There was no one else he could try to cleverly spin the blame on, to trick with his leering grin and mischievous orbs. It was his mistake; it was his pride that had lead to this entire incident when it could have easily been prevented. His pride had consumed his judgment which had strained his trust in his instincts. He believed Maes could do the job; he had done it what felt like a million of times with or without his order that he was practically an expert in the art of secrecy.

And this had been the result. Shot in the chest, bloody and lifeless, leaving the world with a devastated widowed wife and an emotionally scarred daughter. And it was his entire fault.

He wasn't given any more time to ponder his pitiful self revelations for he became enchanted by the sound of heavy foot prints crushing the blades of grass as the person trudge up the hill. He didn't need to angle his head sideways to see the intruder for the moment he heard the steps he knew it was Riza, fulfilling her given duty of being his guardian.

Once she had entered close distance of the grave, she halted in her descent and he could feel the heavy gaze of her watchful amber brown eyes. It didn't take a child genius to know what Riza was doing. She was studying him, swallowing the tiniest of details with her hawk eye stare. Right now in that head of hers, she was probably noting the stifling tension hat wound from his shoulders to his neck, the way his eyebrows were furrowed together; even the way he had sculpted his bangs over his shut eyelids. In that military driven mind of hers, she was probably going through all the safest and most effective ways to handle the situation in front of her.

He had predicted she would stay rooted to her spot and keep that eternal façade of tough love, letting him have a relishing hour or two of pain and suffering as he sorted and organized the mixed complicated emotions running through his head. What he had truly not expected was to hear the rustling of her sleeve as she reached out her arm, the warmth of her fingertips coming into contact with the skin of his temple, massaging the skin in utterly sensationally calming circles.

Her touch was invigorating. For someone who always wore such a cold demeanor, her fingertips were so incredibly hot that he felt if she pressed them harder into his scalp his skin would start to begin to smoke as it was scorched slowly away. It had taken all of his power to squash the moans that were vibrating his throat; however he could sense his efforts were futile for he could feel the corners of her mouth twitch in the form of a ghost of a smile.

Fueled by his purrs, Riza lifted another hand from his side, resting her fingertips gently across the curve of his temples, slowly massaging deep continuous circles into his skin. Gradually he let his sense start to fade away, slowly one by one until he was only left alone with the haunting of his memories.

X-x-X

They remained that way for an hour. Her fingers, even though the muscles began to tighten and cramp, continued in their endless circles as she leaned down next to his ear, whispering him a lullaby of sweet realities that were condemned to never come true.

Finally her efforts were awarded when he lifted his exhausted limp body off the ground and began to shuffle to the car that stood alone in a sea of concrete.

The journey to his house had been anything but a pleasant event. During the entire car ride, he had sat properly, his back parallel to the seat, his head slightly tilted to the side as he stared outside, watching as the world passed him by. If he were a child, Riza could imagine him leaning his forehead against the cool glass, his hand spread out beside him as if he were trying to capture the moving scenes, however no matter how hard he tried they always slipped through his hand like sand.

They spent forty five minutes in awkward silence and when Riza let out a gentle sigh of relief that she didn't know she was holding the surface of Roy's face fell. However, Riza didn't have the chance to see it for at that moment he had exited out of the car and started descending the parking lot to the faded, dusty balconies of the apartment building.

Riza knew that it wasn't safe to let him go alone. There was a high chance, if not a guaranteed, that he would search his house for his hidden bottles of beer in attempt to drown himself. She felt the promotion of death and without thinking any further about the consequences, her feet began to trace the path Roy had taken, a path that she had no idea would lead her to the gateways of the hell, where she would meet the devil.

She had lost him along the way but that didn't deter her resolve. She had visited his apartment enough to have memorized its location and it came to no surprise to her that as she turned the corner the glittering numbers of 453 caught her attention.

Not wanting to suddenly surprise him she slowed her fast pounding steps into gentle quiet taps and even at a much slower pace she found herself at the face of his poorly painted navy blue door faster than she would have liked.

Gradually, she began to stretch out her closed fist, ready to rap the whites of her knuckles against the hard wood door when unexpectedly it was thrown violently open. Before she could say a word, she was roughly grabbed by the wrist, pulled into the shadowed house, her back pressed against the door as it was slammed to a close.

The chill of the wood sank into the pores of her skin, completely ignoring the barrier of her clothes and she stared helplessly as she noticed she was pinned in by a pair of strong muscular arms. His hot pants ghosted over the skin of her cheeks and she found a greater appreciation for the darkness for it hid the embarrassing glow of rose that had dusted over her nose.

Even in the deep darkness his eyes were bright, boring into her amber orbs as they tried to search the depths of her soul as if she held the answers to the questions he was pondering.

His eyes continued to bore into hers, increasing the electrifying tension that was beginning to spread throughout the room. As if waves of power, they crashed into her, forming into sleek electrical bolts as they ran through her nervous system unraveling her frayed nerves.

The connection was broken once his gaze had flickered downward. She watched as they brushed over her small dainty features, flowing down the curve of her jaw before tracing the lines of her neck. His orbs, full of such intense lust, lowered downward, fascinated by the curves underneath her black attire, prickling her skin with the feeling of thousands of white hot needles.

Part of her, detached from the way the tension and his orbs wound her nerves and then unraveled them, pondered on what type of woman he saw behind those midnight galaxies. Did he see a woman who was deeply connected with herself and her pride, leaping over each hurtle that life had thrown at her? Or did he see a woman who was suffering from the sore misgivings of her father's awful ego, constantly seeking happiness only to be hindered by another brick wall?

His eyes began the trip upwards, drinking in every curve and peak of flesh as he sent her nerves unwinding and winding as if she were on a perpetual roller coaster, finally resting on her neck, specifically the crook where the muscles of her neck and shoulder connected. For a second he hovered over the spot, as if contemplating to do the action or not, before he latched his lips onto her skin, her heat beating feverishly under his satin warm lips.

With such vigor, he began to move his lips in a hypnotizing motion, her body quivering as the intense hot waves of pleasure had plagued her, spreading through her skin like a wild fire sending her senses in an acute frenzy.

His tongue, which had stayed dormant in the cavern of his mouth, had coiled out from its cave, licking her pulse as he bathed her skin in warm saliva. She felt as if she would melt into a pile of hot wax and as her body built more and more tension, she trembled, his name burning on the surface of his tongue. She was a pile of burning flesh and with each lick, each nibble, each bite, her mind slowly begun to unravel out of control and if she wasn't prepared she would find herself completely falling apart.

His hands, gaining more momentum from her lustful approval, cupped underneath her thighs, positioning her legs so they could wrap around his toned waist. Pressing her back further into the wood, she arched her back as he scrapped his teeth across her pulse, her fingers winding around his neck as she muttered in his name in a lustful moan.

The heat of passion scorched the room in pulsing warmth, bearing down on them as the electric tension continued to flow. Slowly, she felt as his hand slithered over the skin of her thighs, causing her to ache, over her rear before settling around her slim waist and locking her body against his in an iron tight grip. A moment later, he detached his perfectly scorching mouth off her neck, gulping in the air filling his lungs with the lust filled passion. For a minute, his eyes caught hers and before she knew it she was being dragged away into the room and she had avoided since she had met Roy. His bedroom.

X-x-X

Tangled in the sheets, bodies of flesh rubbed against each other after the night's wild activities. Roy was deep in the clutches of the realm of sleep while Riza was conscious studying the sleeping man who wrapped himself around her, resting his hands on her stomach.

It was the first time in many years that she had seen Roy so relaxed. Ever since the war, there had been permanent violet circles, wrinkle lines that were not there before began to crease his young face. And it seemed every moment that had passed since then, every horrible event had just made them press harder and harder into his face and the ridiculous part of her worried that they would consume his face.

Gently, so she didn't wake him, Riza lifted her fingertips to the panes of her face, letting them flow with the curve of his jaw.

It was Riza's best kept secret that she was in love with Roy. The moment she was first introduced to him, she felt her heart beat wildly in her chest, something no man had accomplished before. And as the years passed, she began to study his character, his flaws, his pride, his good qualities and she found that a part of her heart, which had always remained lock closed, opened. Somehow he had found the lost key and snuck his way in there, making himself feel as comfortable as possible.

She knew as well as he did that tonight would change nothing. He used her to comfort him, to help rid him of the deep pain that wound his way through his heart, through his soul. She was just a quick fix, like putting a band aid on a bleeding wound. And when the pain got unbearable again or his bed got colder than he preferred, he would somehow charm another woman into his grasp and do the same things he did to her.

Not that she was happy about the situation but she had something that those other woman could never have. She was his queen. She was his protector, his guardian, his angel that with the steady soft beat of wings would lead him to the correct path.

And as she struggled with his pride, the very emotion that held his mind down and tried to empty the good intentions out of his dreams, she would fight. Fight for his dreams, fight for him, and fight that horrid emotion until her very last breath because in this vast world, she was the only one he had left.

**Author's Notes: I really loved writing this couple. They were a new challenge and while I am not a hundred percent content with this drabble I am at least ninety five percent. There are a few things I want to mention. I didn't want this to be some sappy, sex induced, predictable, cliche one shot about the two realizing their feelings then having sex and then one of them getting hurt and then they realize how much they need each other. I feel their relationship in the 2003 anime (can't speak for the manga or the newest remake) had a much deeper meaning and connection and I wanted to display this here. Second I know that is extremely, extremely rude for a person to sit on anther's grave however there is a reason I did. Roy is one who we can say follows the rules on the surface or outside but is constantly disobeying them inside his mind. I personally feel that if my friend had died I would lay on their grave, not to be rude but to simply seek the last emotional attachment I had to that person as a way to confirm that he or she was really gone from this world. For those who read this, thank you for taking the time and review please.**


	10. Anger

Title: Anger

Characters: Edward and Winry

Genre: Angst/ Hurt and Comfort

Type: AU or AR

Words: 1681 (without AN or Intro)

**Anger: **

**(noun) a strong feeling of displeasure and belligerence aroused by a wrong; wrath; ire**

Sunlight filtered through the glass of the windows, falling onto the contents of the room with golden glory, the white walls illuminated to a sickly brightness. The room was overcrowded, machines of all shapes and sizes attached to the small frame resting on the bed. Echoing beeps trailed along walls, closing around as the followed the walls like a racetrack, their screens glaring bright blinking numbers in the corners of his vision as if demanding out his attention.

He ignored his surroundings, disregarding every distraction set before him as he tightened his hand that gripped the plastic rail, his orbs fixated on the sickly form propped up like a wooden puppet on the angled mattress. Amber eyes gazed at him through the curtain of long cinnamon bangs, his dark eyelashes easily noticeable the same eyelashes that their mother used to have.

A grunt slipped from his brother's lips, a feeble attempt to clear his infected throat and as he expected a bone chilling cough would come next. When they came, his brother's entire body was shaking, trembling as his tried to regain control and after what seemed a fruitless effort he would watch as his brother weakly accomplished the task. The long acted routine would end when he would hand his brother a Styrofoam cup, filled with cold sterilized water, his brother sipping at it greedily before placing it shaking into the palm of his hand.

The cup was placed securely on the edge of the nightstand, removed of all traces of the crystal liquid with the exception of beading drops that clung to the side. His brother's veiled orbs, holding a slight misted glaze from the powerful dozes of pain medicine, stared at him, the sort of stare that made one feel as if they under the scrutiny of a lie detector.

"What are you thinking about?" His brother's tone held a tired lisp, this ragged tone of unfocused exhaustion.

"About how much I hate this hospital. Or rather hospitals in general if I want to be honest. You think with all the money they receive they would at least be able to buy good enough cleaning supplies to at least get rid of the smell." His brother gave him a gruff chuckle, his eyes travelling to the machine directly in front of him as he watched the line rise higher, the number increasing.

"You're just annoyed by the fact that I am in one." His brother's words held the hint of vindictive intent but his natural good disposition had toned down the harsh syllables, his hazed eyes decreasing the offensiveness of his words.

The validity stung his heart but he hid it behind a vehement laugh, earning a ghosted smile from his brother. "I suppose your right." He admitted. "However they really could do something with the furniture. I mean even a grandma wouldn't buy this tasteless piece of junk."

His brother gifted him with another quiet chuckle, a rare occurrence on an ordinary day and miracle on this one. His brother's laughter died down; to quickly for his taste and he watched as Al eyes shifted away from his form, a vague and unfocused expression as he stared outside the window, the world taunting him with its clear blue sky, chirping birds and relieved patients as they headed toward their parked cars.

"Can you promise me something Ed?" Al's tone was light, a decipherable disconnection between his eyes and voice. He was about to fall into a light sleep again, the medicine had been given to him thirty minutes ago and if Ed knew correctly its effects would kick in some time soon.

"What is it?" Ed asked, knowing very well that his brother would only stay awake long enough to say what he wanted and would never hear his answer, whatever it might be.

"I don't want you to be angry when I die. I am begging you now; when I die please do not grief for me longer than necessary. I don't want to be the reason your life comes to complete halt and you refuse to move on and to continue to dwell in the past." He took a deep breath. Al's voice rose to almost a scream, the highest Ed had ever heard it in his life and something he never wanted to hear.

"You're going to fall in love some day with a woman. And you're going to date her and act as her lover but when the times comes for when you known each other long enough and you should take it to the next step you are going to say no because of my death. This isn't a worry it is a fact. Do not give up your life; do not dishonor our mother's memory by using us as an excuse."

Ed's features twisted in defiance, the corner of eyes narrowing, his brows furrowed into the bridge of his, fingers gripping tightly to the plastic rail. "You're not dying."

Al's eyes held a spark of sarcasm, one of the very few times in history he could remember his brother's eyes shaded with bold hues and the stirrings of a rebellion.

"Ed, there is no argument, I am going to die. There is going to be no arguing or fighting and there most certainly isn't an 'if in this equation' either. I am dying, Ed."

He shook his head, as if to shake away all the negative promotions of death his brother was so harshly spewing. "Look the doctors—"

His brother interrupted him; hand on his, eyes crinkled at the edges, a frown pulling his lips. "The doctors gave me a fifteen percent chance of survival. That is an eighty five percent chance of certainty that I won't make it. The doctor's have given up on me; I have given up on myself. Why do you continue to argue this?"

Ed looked away, listening carefully as another unwanted sigh slipped from his brother's mouth. Slowly, Al's eyelids drifted lower, a few minutes later falling to a complete shut, a light snore flaring is nostrils and Ed alone with his thoughts.

X-x-X

They would meet again on two ends of busy street in perpetually moving New York City, standing on opposite sides of the crossroads, toes just hanging over the edge of the grimed sidewalks. In the sea of blank strange faces, they would be quick to find the others presence.

Irises of exotic colors would climb down their opposites figure, noticing the small details others would over look such as the aging wrinkled lines, the conditions of their forms, their unique features and the shaded exhausted pain they shared in their bright hues. While this scrutiny occurred they would compare their present form to their memories which were slightly altered by the hazy blur of time.

They would continue to stare even after the sign had changed, the pale man signaling the safety in crossing the street. The white painted cross walk would become their bridge, the bridge that had always connected them no matter where they were but one they could never find the courage to cross.

For he was consumed in his anger, the world always peering as if at any moment it was going to rip him apart and destroy him. There was no such thing a generosity given under the motive of good will or love given without the circumstance of unholy lust and greed for money. He always revolved around the benefits, keeping his mind only with rational logical thoughts and forbidding the adrenaline of his emotions.

Anger had flooded her judgment, had violated her soul, tearing and shredding away what she had originally believed to be her rock steady beliefs. It resulted in a quicker temper, her impatient irritation one of the causes for his abrupt leaving and the crashing end of their relationship. It plagued her like guilt, guilt no matter the hours of therapy and talking she was never able to rid herself.

X-x-X

As he knew and she as well, he would come to the choice to not cross the walkway. With one last fleeting look, he turned on his heels and glided away from her, the heavy pressure of loneliness weighing on his shoulders. And as she watched as her old lover walk away, the breathing reason she felt as if someone had scoped the insides of her heart and hollowed her, she debated whether to act upon her inner desire to chase him down and to attempt their relationship one more time or to turn her back and accept the fact that there was no second chance and move on.

Then a thought entered her mind, one of those pestering thoughts that would hover at the edges, always echoing darkly and never silenced despite the best of efforts. She turned her head quickly, seeing the light was still signaling that it was safe to walk. And without a second thought she ran down the cross-way, conquering the bridge he could never.

X-x-X

Her footsteps echoed in his ears as she thundered down the street, determination burning in her crescent blues. He didn't know what had stopped him, what had made his feet pause and turn so he was directly in line with her.

He supposed it was because part of him wanted to stop running, to live fully instead of running away from those he cherished and admired. So he stayed rooted to his spot, unmoving to anyone.

He would take anything she would throw at him, any harsh words, any crying tears, and any abusing kisses. He would consume greedily everything she presented him and love her right, love her fully, as a man and human being for that was his obligation, the only way to right the wrong he had committed. Because he was starting to get tired of all this anger and the pain it brought him. With certainty, he knew his brother was smiling right now with their mother in heaven.

**I know its been a long time since I have written one of these and so I hope this is will satisfy your appetite and earn your forgiveness. So has anyone noticed I promised a light fluff drabble but haven't given you one. Well I will fulfill that promise, emotion permitting me, and I don't care how long it takes. So for those still reading, thank you, you are all wonderful people and I hope I can receive a few more reviews from my wonderful readers. **


	11. Surprise

Title: Surprise

Characters: Edward, Winry,Alphonse, Lust and Pinako

Genre: Slice of Reality/Angst/Hurt and Comfort

Type: AU or AR

Words: 3,821 (without AN or Intro)

**Surprise:**

**(verb) to strike or occur to with a sudden feeling of wonder or astonishment, as through unexpectedness**

**(verb) to come upon or discover suddenly and unexpectedly**

**(verb) to elicit or bring out suddenly and without warning**

"Are you even listening to me?" Her tone was stained with exasperation, her voice raising and lowering in volume as she stressed the syllables. Orbs of aquamarine gazed directly at her grandmother; shadows of a hollow darkness invaded theirs depths.

"Of course I am. I always listen to what you say." Her grandmother responded to her quickly, her wrinkled eyes furrowed at the corners as she struggled to knot the yarn in her frail hands. "And honestly all I am hearing is nonsensical squawking."

Taken back by the insult, her face distorted with speechlessness and her tongue became lame. After a brief silence, she spoke again. "It isn't 'nonsensical squawking'. This is important to me."

At this reply, her grandmother did a full rotation of her irises, a scoff escaping from her thinned lips. Winery's mouth formed into a frown for she remembered she was the one to teach that move to her grandmother unbeknownst to her. "It's been three years and he still hasn't asked me. At this point, he either wants to marry me or not."

"And I am telling you you're rushing it. When he wants to get married, he will be dressed nice, get on his knee with a pretty little diamond ring and ask you to marry him." Satisfaction illuminated her aged face as she set down her knitting, and lifted herself to her uncharacteristically steady feet where she began to shuffle toward the kitchen.

With her grated and frayed nerves, Winery followed her grandmother to the kitchen with the agenda to continue the argument. "Let me reiterate that. It's been _three years_ grandmother. Read my lips. _Three. Years_. If he doesn't want to marry me now then why would he be any more prepared five more years down the road?"

Her grandmother glared at her, cerulean orbs narrowed into slits, her lips tightened into a firm line, fury dancing darkly in the crevices of her irises. The glare was useless and did not in the least affect the state of her disarrayed mind. An inaudible sigh escaped her grandmother's lips and silently she spun her attention to the refrigerator.

"Would you listen to yourself? You are acting as if it has been two decades not three years. Look at Prince William and Kate Middleton. It took him eight years just to propose to her. They have five more years on you." Winery heard the shuffling of milk as her grandmother rearranged the first wire rack in the small fridge.

"And that has nothing to do with the fact that he is the prince of _England _and she will become _royalty _if she marries him." Her grandmother scoffed again, pausing in her search before she once more began to prod around for her desired object.

"Patience is a virtue for reason, my granddaughter. You should know better than any of us that men are not wired the same as us women. For a woman, once she falls in love and assures herself of his loyalty, it is only natural for her to conclude to the final step." Winery remained silent against the kitchen entrance and absorbed in her grandmother's words.

"But for men it's different. Marriage is an eternal commitment and sometimes a rope in which binds them. And when they are like your boyfriend who has been through the repercussions a painful divorce, marriage is a difficult step to take. So be patient. When he decides it's the right time, he will propose and it will be that much more special because it would mean he had decided to marry you and not just because you wanted it."

It was silent for a few moments, the time in which Winery used to register her grandmother' short little speech. Her grandmother, not known to her, softly gazed at her with a small smile lighting her face.

"Stop worrying about the future and help me make dinner." Her grandmother intervened, shattering the silence and the processing of her thoughts. After reestablishing her bearings, Winery fell into place by her grandmother, her true home. When she was younger this was the place she remembered most and when she was older it became a book of wisdom she read but couldn't understand. It was the shadow she chased and the heart she desired. It was her home.

X-x-X

"You're grandmother is old fashioned." Winery glared at her naturally bronzed tanned friend, disbelief tightening the corner of her eyes.

"She's seventy year old." Winery replied bluntly; the smallest hint of mental exhaustion lacing her tone.

A scoff escaped Lust's lips as they followed the normal motions of placing down their coffees and small lunches on a rounded table and settling themselves in the cushioned metal chairs.

"I've met eighty year old women more modernized than _your _grandmother." Winery paused in her chewing of her salad as the grimace shifted the features of her face.

"She just lost her husband." Winery defended her, stabbing a piece dressing lathered lettuce before placing it in her mouth.

"That was a decade ago!" Lust's voice rose sharply, attracting the attention of many other lunch goers. Her eyes narrowed in response in which scared away the onlookers, before she once more turned her attention to her best friend, her voice suppressed into a quiet whisper.

"I love your grandmother, you know that, but sometimes I believe the woman doesn't know what century it is! Men in this age are just not willing to get married and the rising divorce rates all over the country are not helping in the least. They need to be _persuaded_ or at least assured that marriage is not as bad as they believe to be." During her little speech, Lust leaned into the table; an attempt to confined their conversation just to themselves. After her rant was completed, she fell to complete silence, her back rested against the metal back of the chair.

"And how do you suppose I go about _persuading _my boyfriend to marry me?" Winery inquired, her interest flaring dangerously.

"You see I would tell you but I don't think you entirely believe me."

Winery glowered at her friend, a look that clearly did not need interpretation much less a spoken response.

"Do I need to remind you that because of your _persuasion _skills, you lead your fiancé's younger brother to end up feeling forced to get you drunk at some bar and have you commit adultery before you even walked down the aisle?" Lust's face shaded with anger, her lips pursing unattractively.

"So I don't lead the ideal example, scold me. However there are many women in this country who have convinced their husbands to get married and they have been married for _decades_." Winery tried to grimace, attempted to twist her face into a gruesome snarl however a smile invaded her lips, twisting the corners, laughter spilled delightfully from her lips.

"Why is it you always know how to make me laugh?" It came out as a soft squeak, her giggles gaining in volume. Lust just shrugged her shoulders idly.

"I am just an entertaining person." Winery nodded her head in agreement, calming her pants to smooth breaths.

As Lust was about to open her lips and speak once more, a familiar blonde passed by the two women's small café table; thoroughly, catching the attention of the two conversing women. Plastering a smile on her face, Lust called out for the blonde.

"Riza!" The woman turned toward the table instantly, indifferent amber eyes calculated the situation. Winery and Lust knew better to be unnerved by the searching stare and continued to encouragingly wave her over.

She listened to their beckoning and came to a halt at the edge of their table. Lust, with a mischievous gleam in her eye and a curling smile, patted the blond comfortably on the shoulder.

"Do you think our dear Winery should wait for Ed to propose for her or should our dear friend take matters in her own hands and convince him to marry her?" Riza gave Winery a sympathetic glance, understanding spiraling in the depths of her amber irises.

"Honey, you need a lot of help." Then she promptly turned around and walked away.

Winery shifted her focus back onto Lust. "How did your method go again?" A grin threatened to split Lust's face in half.

X-x-X

Nurses waved at her as she traveled silently down the hallways, the occasional doctor nodding before they rushed to their next emergency. Ashen faces rolled past her on portable beds, the perfume of flowers barely masking the smell of death, urine and blood.

She turned the corner, journeyed down another long hallway before she came face to face with the door she was searching. She briefly glanced at the gilded plaque engraved with the words Dr. Edward Elric; a small involuntary smile winding its way across her face.

Collecting a deep breath of air, she opened the door, a series of rusted creaks echoed soundly around the room. In front of her stood a quaintly decorated room, a huge oak desk the center of attention settled in front two closed windows. Sunlight seeped through the open blinds, splashing a crown of golden hair, the body of her husband bent over the desk. His glasses were on and he was studying a manila folder with engrossed interest.

"I am just reviewing my patients for tomorrow. I will be ready in a minute." Winery leaned against the door, a conditioned response. Her husband was planner, one who felt safety in preparation for the worst. It was one of the attributes that made him a good doctor but sometimes it was the reason she didn't see him till late at night.

"Who do you have tomorrow?" She inquired to her husband.

"Mrs. Kennedy. Poor woman, her lungs are not expanding properly and I am worried she is going to develop pneumonia." He didn't raise his head to answer, his eyes scanning the page before closing the envelope.

"Is she still taking those antibiotics you prescribed her?" Winery watched as he stood from his chair, his arm stretched to the coat rack where he grabbed his worn coat before he slipped it on.

"Yes and I am afraid to give her any more medicine. Who knows how much her immune system can take before it comes to a crash."

He pushed his chair, his eyes rising to hers. "But enough of this work talk, don't we have reservations."

A small smile curled Winery's lips. "I thought you would have forgotten by know."

A deep chuckle escaped his mouth. "Do you think that little of me?"

Her eyebrows rose in disbelief at the question. "Honey you forgot our dog's name."

He struggled to keep his façade of indifference. "And what difference does that make?"

"You're the one who named him."

X-x-X

"The nurses missed you today. They wouldn't stop howling "where's that beautiful girlfriend of yours?"." Edward's face twisted into a grimace, his voice rose to a high octave as he mimicked their nurses.

"They still ask even though I've been doing this for years?" Winery questioned, stifling a giggle.

Her boyfriend sent her a glare. "Apparently without you I am an "agitated workaholic idiot who likes to ruin everyone's happiness"." Winery considered the notion for a moment.

"That sounds just about right." Ed scowled deeply, turning away from Winery as he made the choice not to respond. After that they remained silent for a while, a peaceful quietness as they strolled through the park, both admiring the scenery.

"Winery there is something I have to tell you." Ed stated, shattering the peace of the silence. He surprised Winery, her mind not full digesting his words at first.

"And what would that be?" Anticipation bubbled in her blood, the excitement glowing in the depths of her aquamarine orbs. Ed grimaced, turning away before coming to a still, clutching Winery's hand in his.

"Al has lung cancer." Cracks of despair tore at her heat, the agonizing pain twisting the features of her face. She wavered on her feet, her complexion paled, her eyes widened in understanding. Unaware of what to do, Ed stepped closer to her.

"Look I know you had plans, marriage, children-" Winery paused his lips with a finger, aquamarine orbs in sharp clarity.

"What stage is he?" She questioned, tears threatened to fall from her eyelashes. It was a pained look, one with hollowed shadows, a look in which made him fear the worst.

"Stage three." Her chest heaved as she inhaled a sharp intake of air.

"As I was about to say-"Ed continued but was once more interrupted by his girlfriend with her piercing aquamarine orbs.

"Then why are we still here?"

X-x-X

A cough slipped from his throat, scratching against the irritated lining, his breaths taking a sharp intake. "What are you two doing here? Don't you have dinner reservations?"

"We just finished eating." Winery answered as she strode toward the visitors chair and placed her pursue on the poorly cushioned seat.

Noting his brother's girlfriend's behavior, Al turned his attention to his older brother. "Did you ask her?" His face was marred with disappointment as his brother shook his head no in response.

"I couldn't." Al glowered at his elder sibling. Ed turned away from his gaze so instead Al refocused his attention on his _should_ to be sister-in-law.

"Obviously he told you about my condition." Winery's gaze was all the conformation he needed. "Why did you want to see me?"

For a period she was silent, seeming to contemplate the question. Slowly she gaited toward him with grace, leaning close to the side of his bed, her mouth next to his ear and her hand entangled with his.

"I am not getting married to your brother if you're not the best man."

X-x-X

_6 months later…_

"How's the treatment going?" Winery asked. She was seated at a small table in the cafeteria, the nurse settling beside her in the adjacent seat. Aquamarine orbs gazed around the room, a cold indifference masking her pain as she saw the suffering family members of patients crying over their situation.

"Surprisingly well. We killed a surprising number of cancer cells and there is no sign of spreading." Winery nodded her head, taking in the information with relief.

"Answer truthfully, how is he doing?" Winery shifted her focus on the nurse, her hands gripping her jeans tightly.

"Better than most. He is truly fighting the disease unlike other patients." A small smile curled Winery's lips.

"He's always been a fighter." It was a thought that was to remain in her head, however it was accidently slipped from her tongue.

The nurse chuckled to herself. "Isn't that the truth?" Bursting through the entrance doors another nurse assigned to Al's case entered the large room. She shuffled to their table and paused at the edge.

"They are…fighting again." She stated as she tried to gulp refill her depleted lungs with oxygen.

Winery realizing she was needed lifted her form out of the chair. Completely forgetting the existence of her paid lunch, she followed the stressed nurse to where she belonged. By her boyfriend's and his brother's sides.

X-x-X

_1 year later…_

"You're in remission." Relief flooded each of their souls. It was over. It was finally over.

Alphonse glanced at the faces of his brother and future sister-in-law and for once in a long time truly smiled.

X-x-X

"Where are you taking me Al?" Winery inquired with her arm hooked underneath Al's. They were strolling in the local park, admiring the view of the quiet trees and whispering leaves. However, somewhere in the long stretch of silence, Al's calm demeanor became shaky and feverish. And in that deliriousness he led them off the main road and through a roughish beaten path through the forest.

"It's a secret." He answered as his eyes flickered in their sockets, scrutinizing the path and the trees surrounding them. "Alright turn here."

Winery followed his directions, guiding him in the direction he had commanded. For at least ten minutes they struggled to escape the grips of long branches before reaching an opening. In the waning moonlight, a large hill jutted out from the horizon line, on its crest stood an elegant villa. Built from white marble, the villa stretched across the entire crest, its dome gleaming under the weak rays of the moon.

Speechless, Al lead Winery down the slippery slope and toward the magnificent building. It was a good hike before the entrance came into distance, grassy hills forming into paid sidewalks. At the large painted ornamental doors, they were greeted by a waiter, each panting from their steep walk.

They were quickly hustled by waiters down barren hallways, completely unable to gaze at the paintings that lined the walls. At a set of two large doors, they were separated by two more waiters, each holding a strange bundle.

For Winery, her bundle consisted of a ballroom dress in what was surprisingly her size, a gorgeous mask that complemented the dress and high heeled shoes. The dress was sewn from silk, the identical hue of her irises. It was strapless with a corset type bodice, flaring out at the waist into a pleated skirt. The mask was painted the same shade of her dress, at the edges dusted with gold glitter and swirls. White heels adorned her small feet, nail like heels raising her to a towering four inches higher.

Awkwardly, she wobbled in her heels to a vast ballroom. Windows

were draped with fine silk curtains; the marble floors reflecting the crescent moons of candle light. Tables created rows at the sides, each adorned with a white lace table cloth and a bouquet of red roses. Musicians stood on a platform, the classic sound of the violin dancing softly across the air, the notes singing in her ears.

The ballroom was crowded with swirling couples dancing in colorful colors on the dance floor. She tried seeing if she could recognize any familiar faces but the masks did well to hide their features.

From the side of her, Al entered the room, instantly catching her eyes. He was dressed in black velvet suit with the collar, lapels and cuffs sewn from charcoal silk. Pointed shoes, which would have been popular in the 1920's, adorned his feet. His unruly cinnamon tresses were slicked, the stubble of his beard cleanly shaved and even his eyebrows were plucked.

"How do I look?" Al questioned, spinning on his toes to give her the full view of his outfit.

"Not bad. Who knew you could clean up so well?" Winery commented.

Al, immune to her teasing, smiled calmly and replied with an air of easiness.

"Thank you. You don't look so bad yourself." Winery thanked him, finding his indifference uninteresting, turned her attention once more to the dancing crowd.

"This is a beautiful place. How did you find it?" Winery questioned as her eyes wandered to the floor of dancers.

"I had to research it for a paper." Al casually responded, tucking his hands into his pocket.

"What was your opinion of it?" Winery inquired, tilting her head in his direction and gazing at him in curiosity.

"I feel the current designer's strayed too far from the original purpose of Palladio's. It wasn't meant to be a social gathering where petty people showcase their wealth but rather a simple home to collect your thoughts."

As she was to answer, the crowd parted like the red sea, dresses rippling as they would in a pond. The dancing crowd was like a two rows of restless waves, hovering in place. From the center walked Ed, dressed similarly to her future brother-in-law. He strutted uncomfortably between the crowds, traveling the distance to halt in front of her form.

Charmingly, he bowed his head and placed out his hand. "Would you like to dance, my lovely?" Winery giggled into her hand.

"So you do have manners. I was starting to wonder if you had them or not." With his temper short, he took her hand sharply and dragged her to the center of the dance floor.

It was awkward at first for them; Ed couldn't remember the dancing form, and this was Winery's first time formally dancing. After a few of minutes of struggle, they settled into each other's arms and began to sway back and forth.

They were a truly remarkable pair. Each step matched each others; every twirl executed perfectly and their rotations in harmony with the surrounding crowd. Around them was a quiet elegance, a beauty in which seldom appreciated.

When the music slowed, they came to a halt, their breaths fanning the other's cheeks. Slowly, Ed leaned in further, gripping Winery tighter while placing his lips next to her ears.

"I met a woman." He quietly whispered as they began to dance to the rising music.

"Mmmhmm. Should I be jealous?" Winery teased, nuzzling her nose into the crook of his neck.

"Maybe. She is very beautiful?" Winery's smirk widened.

"What does she look like?" Ed took a deep breath, contemplating his answer.

"Well she has these beautiful platinum locks and these amazing eyes the exact shade of blue topaz." His lips traced the cell of her ears, nipping at her earlobe. "Not to mention her rocking body."

Winery giggled. "She sounds pretty." Ed kissed the crook of her neck.

"She's beautiful." They twirled around in a circle, barricading their form behind an exuberant couple.

"I was thinking about asking her to marry me?" His forehead rested against her, giving her the perfect angle to peer into his golden orbs.

"Why haven't you asked her yet?" Winery questioned, tilting her head so their lips were almost brushing each other.

"She might reject me." Ed whispered, his breath heating her soft pink lips to the hue of strawberry. "She is perfect and I don't think I am enough for her."

Winery grinned, her eyes reflecting the lights of the diamond chandelier. "I know she would say yes."

"And why would you think that?" Ed questioned as he turned her in a circle.

"Because she would be stupid otherwise." Winery touched her lips with his, a sweet chaste kiss shared as they slipped into their little world.

They parted from their lungs cry for air, Winery's cheeks flushed rouge. "Should I get down on my knee?" Ed asked as he rediscovered the need for his lungs.

"No. I quiet like you up here. Besides, you can show that pretty little ring in your pocket when I make you beg to marry me tonight." And Ed couldn't help but looked forward to what his mischievous little devil had in store for him.

**Author's Notes: I hate this drabble so much. As you can see it was a beast to write and not only that but it proved my belief that I can't write a set of good dialogue without it being awkward. Well there is my main complaints. So I told you guys I would give you a happy drabble. This was it. Yeah I know what you are thinking: how in the world is this happy?. This drabble has taught me many things I need to improve on but also that I am very much an angst writer. As my friend so kindly pointed out to me, I always have Al sick or dying. Not because I hate him or anything. So please stop listening to my completely biases remarks and tell me what you think. **

**P.S These are just a few notes. Winery's grandmother is referring to the divorce of Ed's parents.**


	12. Fear

Title: Fear

Characters: Roy, Riza and Winery

Genre: Angst

Type: Possible Cannon

Words: 3,591 (without AN or Intro)

**Fear:**

**(noun) a distressing emotion aroused by impending danger, evil, pain, etc., whether the threat is real or imagined; the feeling or condition of being afraid**

**(noun) concern or anxiety; solicitude**

"Roy". Her voice was gentle; the caressing whisper of the sun after the heavy brewing of a thundering storm.

"Roy." She finally captured his gaze, her thoughts praying that came hand in hand with his attention. "What was your mother like?"

He let his bones melt into the plush cushions of the chaise, the rustling of the bird's feathers singing softly from the open window. Her question was the loud blare of a siren cutting through the peacefulness of nature, the warning of a crashing reality and imminent death as it loomed overhead like a blackened cloud of a storm.

"I don't see how that is relevant." Crinkles formed in her skirt as she crossed her ankles, her red heels tempting his peripheral vision, naughty fantasies playing games with his mind.

"Why are you avoiding the subject?" Onyx eyes raised to alluring blue orbs, the shade of the dawning sky just as the sun arose from its dreaming hills, perpetual depths that if he had not cautioned himself they would see through his transparent soul.

"I just believe that my mother is not relevant to my ability to perform my duties." His stare fell to the black and white photograph nailed into the wall. Two sets of eyes gazed at him, happiness echoing in their uncolored orbs, the quiet smiles on their faces genuine.

"Your superiors are worried. They're always commenting how exhausted you appear." Their eyes made contact, a brief connection before he once more averted his vision to a new point of interest; the bookcase.

"I don't see where they would have a problem. My work is being accomplished efficiently and punctually." Her gaze was unwaveringly focused; frustration created creasing folds in her forehead. Deep in the depths of those blue oceans was a fire, a burning white flame in those piercing orbs; one that was all too excited to enflame him.

"Yes that is true but that is not the point of today's session—" He briskly stood, catching the therapist off guard.

"The _purpose_ of today's session was to reaffirm my mental health in validation to see if I can properly carry out my duties. You have said so yourself I am in full capacity to work, so therefore I have no excuse to linger here."

Civilized, he opened the door, escaping into the confines of the restricting white walled cell that woman called an office into the welcoming embrace of the hallway. Familiarity always brought comfort as relief danced windingly around his tensed spine, loosening the coiled muscles. After a calmed breath, he had closed the door; effectively shutting away the danger of any of the therapist's probing questions.

From inside, seated in her fluffed chair, Doctor Rockwell bit her lip nervously. She had seen and treated many patients in her career and many of them had angry bitter souls. However he was the epitome of calm, reasonable and logical, as if he had taken his emotions and thrown them in the trash. And those were always the patients who frightened her the most.

X-x-X

"That was quick." Amber hued irises rose from the newspaper, concern vibrantly honest.

"If that therapist had it her way I would have been in there till the morning." His normal humorous façade had appeared; mischief glowed dully in his irises.

"Her name is Dr. Rockwell." Roy scoffed at his coworker's suggestion, his onyx eyes already consumed by the piling paperwork on his desk.

"I don't care if she is Mother Theresa herself; she was putting her nose where it didn't belong." Riza let out a quiet sigh, a dramatic display for such a quiet woman, as she folded her newspaper. She placed it in the right hand drawer, closed the drawer promptly and rose from her chair.

"It's her job." She explained as she grabbed her coat and slipped it onto her figure, the bulky material hiding her office uniform. "And you wouldn't have disliked her so much if you would stop sleeping with those dimwitted sluts who do nothing but fan your already inflated ego."

Her comment earned her a boisterous chuckle. "My, my Riza, are we showing your dark side."

A cold stone façade remained on Riza's face though inside it struck a hollow cord.

"I only speak the truth." His laughter had not died down, a thick booming sound that emitted from under his sternum, rattling his ribs and vibrating his vocal cords.

He did not take the chance of refilling his lungs with oxygen until minutes later. As he was gulping in the air, his chest violently rising and falling, he refocused on the task at hand.

"Have you seen Elric? I need that stupid metal head for this case I am working on."

Riza searched her memory for a brief moment. "He said he had an appointment with Dr. Rockwell at 6:30." His reaction was not expected. She had predicted a shouted lecture, the storming of muscular figure as he flew to find the missing Major.

Quietly, he leaned into his chair, instead scanning a paper that looked similar to the listing of appointments with Dr. Rockwell that earlier had been posted on the bulletin board.

Roy had confirmed his suspicion. He had tweaked the list so he had occupied the last meeting which began at 5:30. However, it did not matter; for he would punish the boy by giving him more work come tomorrow evening.

He felt her questioning gaze but he dismissed it as he plunged into the work that had accumulated onto his desk.

"Goodnight Riza." His voice was distant with a quiet hopeless tone, a tone in which every time it was uttered from his lips it was if weights had be tied to her heart, pulling the organ in a painful iron grip.

Following his indirect order, she collected the rest of her things and walked to the door. Hesitation had taken control of her mind the direct moment she placed her hand on the door knob. Smoothly, she shifted her body toward the hunched man.

"Goodnight Roy." He failed to acknowledge her, scribbling something on the sheet.

It was her queue to leave, her signal in which informed her she was being an unnecessary pain. With rejection clawing her heart into pieces, she exited the office, into the world of surreal reality.

X-x-X

"Ah you came." She was seated in the same thick cushioned love seat as before, this time wearing a pair of sensual blue high heels. "I didn't think you would."

And she had thought right. "The Führer threatened my job if I didn't."

A sweet smile twisted the features of her face. "Well I wasn't under an illusion that you had come on your own free will." With sweeping eyes, she noticed he tensely hovered at the door. "Please come, sit down." She beckoned, her hand drawing his attention to the plush cushions of the chaise.

His strides were swift, confident against the hard wood floor as he traveled across the room. It was at the edge of the chaise he hesitated once more, his onyx orbs unsteadily storming as he settled himself in the elongated chair.

She let a momentary silence descend around them, her precaution before she engaged in anymore conversations with her emotionally deprived patient.

"Why is it important?" The inquiry had startled her, awakened her from divulging deeper into her cautious thoughts and worries. Those orbs in which glistened darker than the midnight sky were unwavering, probing her sky blue irises as if she was the holy grail that held all of the sacred answers to the worlds unanswered questions.

"I don't know what you are referring to." She spoke only after she had found her voice; even then her tone had lost its professional suave quality in which she prided herself in perfecting over the years.

His eyes bore into hers, trapping her in their dark shifting depths before he released her, his gaze averted to the black and white photo.

"The past." His voice was laced with regret, as if that word was the sole cause of all his deepest sorrows.

"The past can tell a lot of things about a person. It can tell you why a person thinks the way they do, why they behave a certain way and is often a predictor for future choices." He swallowed the words, comprehending, accepting. It was his vice, he understood and accepted but he could never find it in his heart to embrace it.

"My mother was a prostitute. She was the type of woman who saw her body as a tool to get what she wanted when she wanted it and didn't care who she gave it to."

"And your father?" She pressed on, her soothing voice encouraging his mind to continue digging, to see what he had buried inside so long ago.

"A coward. He left us for his wife once she had discovered about my mother." An apologetic smile grazed her features.

"Does your father's wife know about you?"

His eyes brewed, a mixture of emotions bubbling behind his steeled expression. "If she does, she hasn't made any effort to involve herself in my life."

She quickly wrote down a note before continuing. "What was your mother's reaction to your father's leaving?"

He laughed. It was the identical chuckle that haunted her ears with an insanity that had always persisted in trying to destroy her mind, to convince her that her accomplishments were all for naught.

"She was livid. It was the first time someone had openly rejected her and she couldn't take it. At first, she had tried to seduce him but when he didn't change his mind, no matter what she offered, she began to drink. Wine, beer, anything she could get down her throat she drank it. Ended up getting herself in the bed of the wrong person and to escape the consequences she ran away."

"What did you feel when you first heard she had abandoned you?" Fingers quivered shakily on his thigh. She was like a thorn, an unwanted guest who kept digging into matters that was none of her concern or worry. Yet no matter how much effort he put into removing the thorn, it stayed persistent, loosening his tongue so secrets easily rolled off his tongue without any conscious to the repercussions.

"Alone." A perfectly small arched eyebrow rose in question.

"You weren't angry?" Onyx orbs shifted his gaze away, attempting to reel in the traitorous words and silence them.

"I always knew she wouldn't stay, I just never knew when she would leave." What did she want from him? What did she need with such useless information?

"When did you choose to enter the military?"

"I am not going to answer any more of your damn questions."

She kept a cool calm as her heart proceeded to slam against her rib cage. Had she done it? Had she finally began to crack that emotionless mask in which he utilized to shy away from the world?

"Have I offended you in any way?" She questioned her eyes watchful as she studied his coiling form.

"Do you say everything in the form of a question?"

His words matched the smooth fluidity of his struts, perfectly timed so as he caged her with his toned arms and locking her knees together with his thighs, his breath fanned her cheeks.

No wonder why women fell to goo at his feet. He was certainly handsome with his proportional features and riveting eyes but it seemed he was also an expert in finding ways to speed up the heart. But despite the seduction of flesh she found the evidence of a pain in which was twisting and tearing his heart to pieces as they spoke now. It was in the shadows of cheeks, where the skin was pulled taunt over the skeletal bones, the crease of his forehead, the strained tension in the corner of his lips.

"Stop it." The command came as a surprise to him, shifting the plains of his features into the structure of distorted frown.

"What the hell are you talking about woman?" Ignorance definitely was bliss, she had decided then. His harsh name calling was censured from her ears.

"Stop using physical contact as a form of distraction. It doesn't help."

His face was a show. From impatient curiosity, once more his face compensated for his emotions, this time understanding. His lips slightly unhinged, the corner of his eyes loosened creating less of a narrowed appearance around his eyes. His breath was cool against the skin of her neck and in those depths a clarity in which she had only seen a handful of times in her patients throughout her career.

"Physical touch will never give you the connection you want. What you're searching for takes time and equal commitment. Those fleeting one night stands were just after physical completion, a means to satisfy the animalistic hunger we all have and that is it."

"How do you know?"

"Because I have seen a relationship built on trust and commitment. To tell you the truth I don't ever think my parents were ever physically attracted to each other." A giggle escaped her lips. "They were both doctors. They knew the human body better than anyone in the whole hospital but I guess that explains why they never searched for sex to define them. Instead they had long talks every day, always so intuitive to each other's expressions and words. They told each other I love you every day and asked themselves in the morning what can I do to make their life better?"

"Were they happy?" Her touch was so agonizingly soft against his cheeks.

"If you are referring to the fantastical happy everyone envisions where there are no fights and everything is perfect every moment than no. But if you are referring to a happy where they compromised easily and whole heartedly enjoyed each other's presence then yes."

It was a magical moment. For a whole minute, he let those defenses he had so well designed fall, his face raw with the crying anguish of his soul. For an entire moment, he had let her fingertips soothingly remove all the wrinkles. For a beautiful second, she had helped bring stability to his soul.

He slowly pulled away, as if her touch had become his life support and with the turn of heel, heading toward the door. She couldn't end it like this. It was like a story one sentence away from completion, as if perfection was seemingly around the corner but no one had the courage to go and grasp it.

"Wait." She shouted as she ran toward him, the rail thin heels vibrating the air around them.

She stopped by him, hovering before him like a nervous bee, before she leaned in and lightly brushed his cheek with her lips.

"Thank you for coming. I really appreciate it." As she sauntered back to her chair, he entered the hallway, closing the door behind him. The corridor that had once brought him comfort had now felt like a prison, its windows the door he never had the courage to grasp. With no regret, he shuffled down the carpeted hallway.

X-x-X

"Another late night?" Riza inquired, though unlike that damn therapist, there wasn't any underline ulterior motive.

"You know those damn higher ups; send all the damn unwanted paper to the lower ranks while they rest on some cozy beach and we freeze our asses off." His response was grumbled through his lips, rough and guttural with unusual charming flare.

It earned him a laugh, a music note that was heavenly against the drowsing silence of the office and rustling of the papers that chained him to his chair. It was a rarity, a rarity in which he enjoyed every time he had the liberty to hear it.

"Don't overwork yourself." His reply was silence for he did not want to throw himself into the debate that would pursue if he did reply. Not at least with her. With others, he could calmly joke about how he wanted this paperwork to form a hand and put him out of his misery. If he told her that though, he would only cause her to be concerned for what she probably already feared.

"Get out of here. I don't want you forming wrinkles on that pretty face of yours. God knows I couldn't survive this damn office without staring at your ass at least once."

Her glare was blunt, not very threatening for over the years he had developed immunity to it.

"Goodnight Roy." It was her routinely greeting. Yet this time it had the strain of worry and the slight flare of agitation.

"Goodnight Riza." Confidence. That was what masked his inner turmoil.

Why was she the one always walking away? How come it was her who had to exit the room and not him?

"Are you going to the Christmas party?" She called out from her position in the door, entertaining her impulsive thoughts.

Roy shook his head no. "No. I promised Gracia I would spend the day with her." A small smile graced her face as she thought of Mae's widow. Gracia would visit them in the office on a rare occasion; bringing Elisia and a basket of her irresistible homemade cookies however the majority of her visits were spent with Roy.

"Too bad. I heard the Führer was hiring a striper to dance for all the unmarried men." She grinned at the genuine shock that crossed his face before she left to the world of snowing silence.

X-x-X

"Welcome." Her greeting was stiff; her seductively haunting tone in which had managed to unhinge his wired jaw was missing from her syllables.

The door closed quietly behind him as he traveled to his previous seat, settling his aching bones into the conforming cushions.

"What brought you hear this time?" He noticed that the change was not only in her voice but in her fashion. For instead of those sexy colored pumps that defined the small delicate arch of her foot she wore silver flats.

"Your damn fiancé." Giggles rose in the air like the flight of colorful birds, dancing and weaving through the clouds before escaping into the waves of white.

"I wondered who gave him those bruises." She took a natural pause as she collected her breath. "I am surprised that you didn't recognize him earlier. From what I heard nothing ever escapes your observant eyes."

Her tone was playful, soft and innocent with a touch of mischief. It was obvious to him how Elric could fall for her. She was a girl who was sturdy, internally stable that would not be overwhelmed by his travels, a woman who would always remain faithful together or alone.

"He was smiling." The frayed edges of confusion blurred her magnificent irises; deep sweeping crinkles marred her unblemished face as one delicate arched eyebrow rose.

"What do you mean by that?" The conversation hung in the air for a few more seconds before falling to the ground. A silence swept in, draping over them with the heaviness of a velvet curtain.

Unasked, Roy seated himself in his familiar place, the elongated cushioned chaise that was located across from the beautiful- but nosy- therapist

"I only have one question to ask you to this time" There was a tone of finality, a sense of foreboding. Somewhere in the recess of his mind, he knew this would be the last time he would find her in this place, the end of her probing questions and soul piercing gazes.

A chuckle fell merrily from his lips, a sound unguarded and genuine. "Only one?" She tried to prevent the corners of her mouth from tugging her lips into a smile but she ultimately failed.

It was when her look had turned solemn that he truly regretted returning to see her this one last time.

"What are you afraid of?" From the foundation to the outer edge, his iron wall quivered from the velocity of the question, straining under the pressure of his rebelling thoughts as they fought their chaining restraints.

"What makes you say that?" He wished he could have manipulated the shadows projected off the wall to blanket him from her scrutiny, her eyes a fire that licked and scorched the wall protecting his heart.

"Because you stopped living." Sooth and calm. That was how she replied him but beneath that façade boiled an anger in which threatened to burn him to his core. "I have seen patients like you before. They immerse themselves in work, distance from any sort of human connection and distract themselves in any way possible. They refuse to confront the consequences to their actions, deny any help presented to them and lie about even the smallest matter."

"Ah so I'm just another one of your patients now?" Her displeasure was brutally expressed in the tension of her cupid bow's lips but now he had completely blocked any consciousness for her emotions, raging from his own boiling blood.

As she was going to comment with another biting comment, he interrupted her mid-breath. "Thank you for your time and concern." It was at the door did he start to feel the inkling of regret but with great control he pushed it away.

**Author's Notes: I am so sorry for the long wait. I had this done before I went on my trip but my beta (a wonderful beta she is) was busy and didn't edit it until recently. So this is part one, the second part will come under the title of life. So I am in much need of criticism so please don't be afraid to leave a review telling me your thoughts and opinions. **


	13. Life

Title: Life

Characters: Roy and Riza

Genre: Drama/Hurt and Comfort

Type: Poorly attempted Cannon

Words: 2,213 (without AN or Intro)

**Life:**

**(noun) the period between birth and death**

"We found who it is sir."

"Well who is it?"

"Gracia, sir."

Eyes narrowed. "It couldn't be her."

"We know that sir. She was conversing with her neighbor the night of Mae's murder."

"Then why did you say it was her?"

"We found a hair and it was identified to be hers, however her alibi was steady. Every neighbor remembers her staying up with light on until one o'clock and Mrs. Hannah stayed with her until midnight which was confirmed by her husband."

"Well then who was it?"

"We believe it was one of the homunculi sir."

"What brought you to that conclusion?"

"From Elric's previous reports there seems to be a homunculi with the ability to take the appearance of people."

"And what is this homunculi's name?"

"Elric calls him Envy sir."

X-x-X

A torrid fire flowed through his veins, scorching his skin with a maddening rise in temperature, tightening his flesh around his face as he snarled through his clench teeth.

There _he _stood. With that arrogant confident smirk that suggested he knew exactly what he had done without any hint of remorse.

Bolts of lightning fizzed from his fingertips, uncontrollable, as they warmed his tense fingers. He was going to be sure this man got a punishment _exactly_ proportional to his crime.

The crackling bolt was inches from electrocuting the blasted homunculi's ankle. His infuriating grin only further fueled his rage as he slid deeper into the shadows of the alley. From the corner of the alley, a particular giant of a man stepped out, his thick trunk arm seized around Riza's neck holding a knife precariously against her throat.

There was no thought, no rational logic in which could have prevented him from striking again, the streaking light terrifyingly vivid in the charcoal shadows. He had not seen his coworker held in the enemy's grasp however he was forced to see as the enemy placed her in line with his attack.

Fear tainted those translucent amber orbs as she cried his name yet all he could see was the vicious smirk that had twisted on Envy's face.

X-x-X

The leather seat groaned as he shifted in the chair. His feet had already numbed quite a while ago, according to the clock he had already been here for a full day.

Few people populated the room, some like him had pulled a late nighters rattled with anxious tension to hear news- any news- about their loved ones. Some were obviously new, visibly shaken to hysteria, crying, moaning and whining to their selves as they rocked back and forward in worry. Others had obviously been here before, detectable in the tight stretch of skin around the eyes.

As the door swung open the tension in the room nearly became suffocating. Everyone was on the tips of their toes when the corner of a white coat peeked out from the squared edge of the door.

The doctor was a middle aged man who was climbing up in his years. A hollow gleam in his eyes told the story of his many years of service in the field.

"Colonel Roy Mustang." His tenor held effable sadness behind the frigid politeness.

Roy rose from his chairs, earning a mixture of hopeful and menacing expressions from his fellow waiters, and steadily walked to the doctor. He paused before the aged man, noting the sympathetic gleam in his eyes that could so easily be mistaken for pity.

"She is fine now. We have cleaned and bandaged her wound." There was a visible relaxation of his muscles that simultaneously occurred as Roy breathed a sigh of relief. This seemed to fuel the doctor to continue retelling his diagnosis.

"We have determined it is a second degree burn. Since it is on her neck we have to check if it had damaged any of the nerves and arteries but from what we see there is no damage. She will have to stay in the hospital for three weeks and a week of rest at home before she can return to work."

He nodded absorbing the information with intense concentration. With nothing more to say, the doctor led him behind the door.

X-x-X

The doctor, who Roy had not bothered to learn his name and frankly didn't care to, led him to a white painted door. He knocked; pale knuckles skimmed the surface of the dark wooden door. That is how far the doctor's polite manners concerned him because the next moment he was entering the room.

Following closely on his heels, the image that presented itself to him inspired his guilt farther. In the blank white wash, Riza lay ashen against the dulled worn green hospital blankets, gauze bandages covering from her left shoulder to the tip of her chin. His stomach felt as if it was weighed down with lead as it became a distinct difficult task to swallow.

Hazed honey eyes watched their movements with absentminded vigilance. The doctor seemed unfazed, probably having been quite educated in dealing with officers like Riza, comfortably strolled to the side of her bed in order to assure their was stability in her vitals.

"Well it seems like everything is in order." He muttered to himself after he finished his routine. With nothing else to demand his attention he left but not without the rehearsed warning that he must not stay for more than an hour because she needed sleep in order to return to full health.

Assuring the doctor he would leave soon, he occupied himself with his last distraction before he had to focus his attention on Riza.

Light brown eyelashes brushed pale cheeks. "Good evening Roy." Her tone was guttural as if she hadn't spoken for a week.

Something in him broke. Moisture irritated the back of his eyelids. He tried to put his comical façade on but he found it was an impossible task.

"Same to you… Riza." He knew she heard the slight quiver in his voice as he spoke her name.

Her eyes softened, the warm countenance contrasting almost painstakingly compared to her cool indifference. "How long did you wait?"

He avoided her gaze finding the particular stain where a wad of gum had once been earth shatteringly fascinating.

"A couple of hours. You know how the superiors are. They wouldn't let me go until I had told them everything." He finally found the self control, his mask properly in place.

There was something in the disbelieving shift of her eyes that told him she knew he was lying but she chose to drop the matter. An inevitable silence pursued. Finally, after what seemed to be at least three time periods and a geological era, Riza broke the silence.

"I'm fine." This was the subject he had purposely avoided. He had sincerely tried to believe her. Never once since he had known her had she lied to him. However something inside him wouldn't let himself believe her statement when she was lying sick on a hospitable bed bandaged from shoulder to chin.

"Do you have someone to take care of Buck?" A smile brightened her face but the angelic image was ruined by the racking soul sucking coughs that came afterwards.

"His name is Black Hayate and yes I do."

"That's good." If he were someone else he would have been berating himself to the Istanbul deserts and back but he let the blunder slip, focused on the warm sunlight that danced from the narrow windows.

"Roy I said I am fine." She pointedly reiterated. In reply, he silently clenched his fist, feeling the familiar stroking sparks that accompanied his boiling rage.

"Stop it." Her eyes narrowed as she noticed his avoidance. "You are not to blame for this. You were—"

Her lecture was shortened of its length for Roy had risen from his chair so hurriedly, rushing to her side. Pain ignited her nerves to life as he pressed a forceful hand to her injury.

"I did this to you!" He snarled, his bottom lip captured by his teeth, his hand gripping slightly tighter on her throat. "I am the one who _attacked_ you. I am the one who _gave_ you this wound. I am the reason why you almost _died_."

The skin on the corner of his eyes tightened in folds, his hand dropped from her as if it were some detestable wasp. However Riza would have none of it. She grasped his hands with delicate calloused hands, hands that have too seen war and death brought by the single smoking shot of a gun.

Fingers wound around his in a comforting manner, her ivy free hand directing his gaze to her eyes.

"I told you I am fine. The doctors said I should heal just fine." Gently, she stroked his cheek before she joined its counterpart, caressing his guilty hand with undeserving warmth.

"_Don't_ tell me your _'fine_' because that is a lie." Low rumbling growls havocked his smooth tenor. "You're going to be in this hospital bed with a burnt neck for three weeks under intense treatment. That's not fine."

A grim sigh echoed from her lips as her gaze became solemn. "What do you want from me Roy?"

A sharp tug was all that was required to release his hands from her soft grasp, turning away from her as if she were a tainted piece of art work.

Silence suffocated the words in his mouth. For a few tense moments he leaned against the doorway, reigning control over his spiraling thoughts.

"I want to know why you were there that night." He finally inquired, turning to her with battle worn eyes.

Her smile made his heart palpitate. "I was following you." Such a simple answer yet it left a mile long trail of unraveled questions.

His incredulous stare was enough to entice another answer from Riza.

"Do you think I wouldn't be able to recognize your makeshift intelligence team?"

Admiration was quelled by his curiosity. "Why?"

A dull glint shimmered in her painkiller induced gaze. "I thought you might need assistance."

This was unbelievable. First, he couldn't detect her following him and now she was questioning his competence.

"But I was wrong." The quiet laugh that fell from her lips was bitterly hostile, an expression of detestation for her uselessness. "I am not angry at you Roy because frankly it was entirely my fault for not being as vigilant as I should have been."

His blood was once more sent boiling but this time his indignation was for him.

"No. I should have noticed you. I should have protected you and focused on freeing you." The sincere regret in voice brought sadness over her, loosening her tongue so it made her do something in which she would never commit under normal set of conditions.

"I love you." It was unexpected, not at all interconnected to the discussion at hand, completely inappropriate and utterly too long waited to be admitted.

"I suppose I never really realized how dangerous the life we live. Every day there is the small risk of someone putting us into our grave so we are taught to be vigilant." Her gaze was steady, the hue of irises brightening from the influx of emotions. "You're right. I should have died today from my actions but I dealt with this before. I have woken up in hospitals only to walk out those doors without ever realizing if it weren't for the doctors I would be dead."

She paused, her entire frame alive with a quiet tremble. "Tell me, when did we stop living?"

The phrase had caught close to home. Part of Roy wanted to run through those doors while the other was so utterly derailed movement was seemingly impossible.

"Look at me." He raised his eyes to her determination burning a familiar light in those honey orbs.

"Start living again. Mae's wouldn't have wanted you to be like this. Life is short, especially ours."

Before cowardliness won, he approached her bed side. In accordance, she adjusted her gaze to his, her expression angelically sweet with her loose golden locks and radiant eyes.

With no hesitation, he kissed her. Everything in him seemed to start again as if he was in a deadened state. His heart raced, blood flowed warmly as his hands entangled in her surprisingly silken locks, lips begged and pleaded to be coated with her taste.

When their lungs demanded air, they pulled away. The only sound was the soft cadence of their panting warm breaths, her jaded eyes glowing warmly with satisfaction.

"I'm going to hurt you." He whispered, pulling his hands away.

Her stubbornness reared its determined head for she grabbed his hand before it slipped away, entwining their fingers to keep him with her.

"I am aware of that. But I didn't expect a confession; I just need your understanding." Apparently, Riza Hawkeye knew Roy Mustang better than he knew himself.

Rather reluctantly, he untangled their interwoven fingers and this time she did not provide any opposition. With one quick glance at her reddened lips and tussled hair he walked away.

"Goodnight Roy". She could not see the smirk winding slowly on his face but she knew it was there.

"Goodnight my Queen."

**Author's notes: I have a couple important reminders so please read!**

**1. This is my last Roy and Riza drabble. I find I am very interested in this couple and I so badly want to do them justice but I don't have the time nor the patience levels to do that. Also, I get a lot of requests for this pairing but no one has given me reviews on the drabbles in which I do write about them. Are they terribly OOC or are they IC? Do my plots make sense, do you see the connection between the title and the drabble? Help me!**

**2. I have not watched FMA Brotherhood. Therefore this is why this chapter has many leaps in time. I gathered most of my information from a youtube video so forgive me for any errors I have made.**

**3. This is to an anonymous reviewer: I am afraid sadly I can not do Al and Mei. As I state before I have not watched FMA Brotherhood, do not have the time and the end result would be rushed and crap that would only disappoint you. **

**PLEASE REVIEW!  
**


	14. Disgust

Title: Disgust

Characters: Greed and Mantel

Genre: Honestly, no idea

Type: CU

Words: 670 (without AN or Intro)

Warning: foul language, very sexually suggestive language and thoughts of homicide

**Disgust: **

**(Noun) a strong distaste; nausea; loathing**

**(Noun) repugnance caused by something offensive; strong aversion**

Balancing on her make shift seat, Martel flinched as Greed bit down on a chicken bone with his abnormal pointed shark teeth. Shards of bone spilled from his mouth in saliva coated specks to the ground while the bone marrow coated his lips.

She understood the fact that they were fugitives and good eating etiquette was very low on their priority list. But the way Greed ate was just … _wrong. _She wasn't expecting to him have dinner party manners. If anything, that was her last wish. But she just wished he could eat like he was at some point human and not a wild animal controlled by impulse.

After three consecutive nights of listening to the chomping of bones and the tearing of meat, she had enough. If the constant chopping, drool and spitting continued, one of two things might occur. A, she was going to kill him in his sleep or b; she was going to kill herself. She found the first option appealed to her more.

However, despite how she really wanted to, she knew she couldn't. She had been a witness to the fight between Greed and that Elric kid. He was a _kid_ for god's sake and yet that he was always one step away from pounding Greed into the ground. If not for Greed, she was certain they wouldn't have escaped from the boy, who looked as if he were ready to kill someone.

By the fourth night, she had already had a plan in motion. Once dinner had been killed, cleaned and cut into proportions, she waited for the deafening crunching to begin. And it did. This time, however, Greed was attacking the chicken with vigor as he grinded the bones between the two rows of teeth.

While everyone was eating, she stealthy slid her dagger from its sheath without making a single noise, which at the point Greed was grinding _another_ bone. Then she quietly snuck to and around Greed's chair before she placed her knife so close to his throat that if breathed to deeply he would nick himself.

It took nearly thirty seconds for them to notice my questionable position, which by that time she could have clipped _both _her finger and toe nails.

"So who made you jump ship?" Greed silently question, the nervous humming breaths of the other fugitives made the air sing like taunt cord.

"I didn't betray you guys; I just want you stop eating like an animal."

Daringly, he chuckled and she could feel the pressing wall of flesh against the blade around her knife.

"You could have asked." They both knew that wasn't true. He would have made a comment, she would have replied in anger and then it would lead them to a fight which he always won.

"Do it yourself." She commanded as she threw the knife down into the unsuspecting dead chicken. He just chuckled and the rest of the room decided to breath.

"Show me." Since she was born, few things have completely stunned her. Unfortunately what he had said was one of those things.

"Since I am so uncivilized, show me how to eat properly." Did she mention she wanted to kill him?

She stomped furiously back to his chair, ripped her dagger from where it was buried in the table and began to cut his chicken into slices. She made sure that all the chicken bones were removed and thrown into a furthest corner. When she finished the task, she lifted her head to see him grinning.

"Now if I could only get you in the sac."

"Rotten bastard." To demonstrate her point, I threw she knife at him. He caught it in between his fingers as he laughed that infuriating chuckle.

He tossed her knife back effortlessly. "Wouldn't know until you try."

At that point she knew she had made a mistake. She should have killed him when she had the chance.

**Author's Notes: I am so sorry that this took so long. I gave to my beta what I originally wrote but both of us were extremely unhappy so I had to rewrite it. I am a little happier with it, I think Greed and Martel are a little less OOC. For those who like my long drabbles I am sorry, I wanted to experiment with a short drabble this time. As for when this drabble occurs, I would say it is after the time Edward escapes the prison where they are trying to create the philosopher's stone and before the time Martel invades Al's armor. Please tell your thoughts, I would love to know all of your guy's opinions. **


	15. Relief

Title: Relief

Characters: Greed and Mantel

Genre: Romance

Type: Cannon

Words: 319 (without AN or Intro)

**Relief:**

**(noun)alleviation, ease, or deliverance through the removal of pain, **

**distress, oppression, etc.**

**(noun) a means or thing that relieves pain, distress, anxiety, etc.**

She wondered what relief felt like.

She had known the feeling long ago when she was a small child. But too many life and death situations had erased its existence leaving her no better than an ancient old man who had lost all his memories to time.

However, since she joined the Elrics, this unusual pressure weighed heavily on her heart. And with every thought of Greed, alone and probably lying on death's door, her heart beat quickened to a staccato the beats so sharp the air in her lungs seeped through her like a leaking mechanism. For two exasperating weeks, she remained awake just waiting for the moment her heart would stop. It never happened, of course, but in the darkest hour of the night she found herself secretly wishing it did.

Leaving the Elrics was like drinking wine. At first she hated it but after awhile and with no other options, she began to tolerate it, maybe even like it. Once parted with it though, she would not mind never trying it again.

Her desperate search stretched to a week before she found him. Drowned in the shadows, he was waiting for her at their favorite alley. As people passed, she slipped into the comforting darkness with him like a solider returning home.

The weight which had welded itself to her heart had been ripped away at the sight of Greed. It was obvious he was recovering from a mortal injury. His skin was ashen and his arms cradled his chest. His breathing was ragged, falling from his lips in light opaque clouds.

As they disappeared in the darkness together, she recognized that the freeing sensation was relief. Inwardly, she smiled for she found a part of her she had lost long ago.

**Author Notes: I know this is very very late but I hope you like. I really loved writing this drabble because I am discovering I am really good at writing in a way that is ambiguous and emotional. I would love your feed back so please review. **


	16. Annoyance

Title: Annoyance

Characters: Roy and Riza

Genre: Romance/Friendship

Type: Cannon

Words: 1081 (without AN or Intro)

**Annoyance**

**(noun) a person or thing that disturbs or bothers in a way that displeases, troubles, or slightly irritates**

Roy was, despite his careless attitude, a very methodical man.

Every morning he woke at exactly five o'clock, a habit he had never broken since boot camp. By five thirty, he had taken a shower, and at six, he had eaten his usual breakfast of two eggs and three pieces of bacon. By the time the clock read seven thirty, his vehicle was already parked in the office parking lot, and he had clocked in.

His afternoon was little more relaxed compared to his morning. Usually he worked on paperwork until his lunch break, and afterwards he more or less focused on any current investigations. Of course, this put the office behind with paperwork, but he really didn't have the heart to care.

Riza, however, put an end to that after the entire office received a notice saying they were two months behind. She had threatened him that if he put them behind one more time, she was going to lock him in the office until he finished it. So, in order to not get his hide skinned, he began to do more paperwork but lagged behind just enough to annoy her.

In the evenings, he generally went to a bar. Most of the time, he picked up a woman, but occasionally, he remained alone and tried to drink away any bad memories that had resurfaced.

That day seemed to be no exception. His morning occurred in the same fashion as any other, and the afternoon appeared to be following the same path. Of course until those damn Elric brothers interfered.

Edward had refused to come into the office that day (something about how the cold and the snow made movement impossible with his mechanical arm), which had backed the office paperwork system to the roof. The mission Roy had for Edward not only had a clue about the philosopher's stone, but also provided vital intelligence (and although he would never admit it to him, Edward was his best intelligence gatherer), and without this mission Roy had no choice but to bring the office to a standstill.

In the afternoon, Roy was going to send a messenger to retrieve Edward kicking and screaming, but he abruptly called off the order when Winry walked into the office.

Roy, personally, had no problem with Winry. She was kind, honest and protective, all traits he admired, especially in a women. In a way, she reminded him of the way Riza would have acted had she not pursued a military career.

The girl politely informed him that Edward was deathly ill, and there was no way he was going to reach a functioning state until the end of the week. And when Roy had thought they were done, Winry had surprised him.

"Don't you dare uses this against him, but he can't focus during the winter. His mother always preferred the winter because it was in the summer her husband had abandoned her. In the winter, it was just her and her boys. That's why he usually asks for missions at the end of summer so he can spend time with his brother and reminisce on the good memories."

He was a lot of things, but blind was not something Roy ever claimed to be. It was obvious those boys had, to this point, lived a strenuous tragic life and as a result they were so much older than they should have been. Which is one of the reasons he liked to mercilessly tease the boy, besides the fact the boy was way too sensitive.

After thanking Winry and promising to wait a week, Roy decided to play catch up as much as he could. In careful consideration, he assembled a small team to confirm the intelligence he needed.

However by the end of the work day, this apparently wasn't enough according to his gorgeous, uptight lieutenant. Just when he was going to leave, Riza, in a matter-of-fact tone, informed him he would be staying to help with the remaining paperwork unless he wanted his custom white alchemy gloves to be ruined by Black Hayate.

Not wanting to risk having to buy a new pair of gloves, (those gloves were extremely expensive and he didn't think his funds would allow for another replacement) he stayed. It was not without its rewards. Riza, who knew about his evening ritual, had brought some wine and in silence they worked.

The clock read ten o'clock by the time they had finished, and both of them were past tipsy.

At some point, Riza had gotten irritated with her hair and let it down. It was prettier that way, Roy decided, as he inspected his drunken lieutenant's flushed face and glowing transparent amber irises.

"What was the occasion?" He asked, lifting his glass of nearly empty wine.

Soft, elegant fingers stole his attention as she lightly dragged her finger against her wine glass. "Today's my grandfather's birthday."

Roy had heard of the Hayate Hawkeye. He was one of the militaries most decorated officers in its history. It was said two years before he could retire, he left the military. Apparently in an ambush his son and his wife had been killed, orphaning his young granddaughter. He had raised the girl by himself and from Roy's understanding, the man was strict and old school, which had explained Riza's unbendable conservative views.

"It was very difficult for him to raise me by himself. He once told his friend that facing grenades or a gun was not nearly as scary as raising a child."

She paused, as if she forgotten how to breathe, before continuing, "He's also the one who gave me the nickname the queen. He said I was protective like the queen chess piece and that if I were to ever meet anyone to make sure he was worthy of being a king."

Roy liked seeing this side Riza. Normally, she was painfully guarded, and this sense vulnerability reminded him she was human. Although, truth be told, the rigid Riza was much sexier.

For once, he found annoyances in his schedule like the Elric brothers and paperwork to be enjoyable. For without them, he never would have learned about those around him.

"To a beautiful queen." He toasted.

"To a worthy king" She toasted back with a small rare smile which caused heated shivers down his spine.

Sometimes, annoyances were good things.


End file.
